NonExistent
by xylot3
Summary: N/E. CotBP. AU. The Dauntless and her crew didn't find Will floating on that crossing from England. Elizabeth wouldn't have had him to fall in love with - but she did have James.
1. Prologue

_My first Norribeth story - so help me, I love that little wig!_

_When they went on that cruise on the crossing from England, Elizabeth and the rest of the people on the Dauntless didn't pass by the Princess (the ship that was burning in the first scene of CotBP). So this means... No Will! Nobody to distract Elizabeth from falling for ol' Norrie. __**Wait!**__ Will __is__ going to be in this story, but not for a while (if I do continue this at all). So don't worry, our little eunuch - heh - won't be completely left out. But what happened to him? You'll have to find out!_

_One more thing - this story is not like Changing Birds where I made it up as I went along, I've planned this one out for a while, so it should be better. Sort of-ish. Anyway, enough rambling. Please review afterwards! I need at least 2 reviews to get this story running. _

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Prologue

The _Princess _exploded in a huge burst of flames. The mast, having been hit with a fluke shot from the pirates, fell down, the sails on fire and the wood splintering like a newly cut tree. The young boy fled, on orders from his mother, jumping off ship and clinging for life onto a small raft of broken wood from what was once the hull of the ship.

Clutching the gold medallion to his chest, paddling slowly away from the wreckage, he held back his tears. His mother had not followed like she said she would. She was dead, either suffocated by the smoke, drowned, or burnt. Will was an orphan, his father dead, his mother dead, no siblings, no friends, no guardian, nobody. He was his own self.

He realized there was no chance that there was another ship floating by. A million to one, perhaps, and this was not one of those times, for sure. He was as good as dead.

He couldn't hold his tears any longer.

_Pirates, _he thought angrily, bitterly. _Loathsome scum of the world. _They'd probably been the ones to kill his father, now his mother. How much longer would it be that they wiped out the remaining family member? _They don't need to, _he told himself, _I'm goin to die soon anyway, there'll be no point. _

He stopped paddling, he was now far enough away not to be harmed by the burning wreckage. Clutching the medallion like it was the only thing keeping him alive, Will curled into a ball and cried.

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	2. Norrington's Proposition

Elizabeth smiled at James' ridiculous outfit, remembering his exact words of it being 'heavy, hot and rather itchy'. She supposed it would be, with the heavy blue coat and the usual white wig, complete with a new sword made by Mr. Brown's apprentice Todd. Quite frankly Elizabeth did not care about the sword. From his position on the stairs, James made eye contact and winked very discreetly. Elizabeth held back a laugh and - was it possible - a blush?

Of course not. She had known him for almost half her whole life, and it was entirely improper for one to fall for another they had known forever. _It _is_ improper, isn't it? _She couldn't help but ask herself, yet she didn't know why she would ask such a question. Hiding another blush that seemed to be creeping back up her neck, she fanned herself, concentrating on breathing. The corset was too tight, she noticed, but she managed to stay conscious for the rest of the ceremony.

Soon, the ceremony was over, and the heat of the day combined with the tight lacing on her dress was making Elizabeth feel dizzy.

"Miss Swann, may I speak to you in private for a moment?" Captain James - _Commodore, _she repeated in her mind. The thought made her want to giggle for a moment, though she managed to hide it.

"Cap- Commodore, how many times must I tell you it is Elizabeth?" It was an old game, James had always teased her by calling her "Miss Swann" before, with her retorting with "Mr. James", both names getting on each recipient's nerves, but it was a sig of friendship. Nearly ten years age difference didn't mean they couldn't be friends. He was probably her closest friend. She'd had school friends, but they had all moved out of Port Royal or gotten married off. _When will that be me? _She wondered briefly, before accepting James' arm and following his natural step to the parapet, hoping she didn't swoon right into his arms. Or maybe she did hope, maybe she _did _want to fall right into his arms, besides, she had already fallen for-

"I apologize if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind," the commodore began, ignoring her comment, closing his hand around hers. She blinked in confusion, but smiled politely as if to say, _Go on._ He nodded minutely and continued, "Uh, this promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved..." he pauses to cath his breath, "...a marriage to a fine woman." Elizabeth grinned and said, very quietly, "Good luck with that, Jamie." She winked and he smiled softly, but it soon changed back to an awkward expression. Elizabeth caught her breath again, before she felt unconscious.

James looked out into the sea, pausing, as if he was hesitating to say something important. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly.

"You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth." He pauses again, waiting for her answer.

She really lost her breath. The world dimmed, her eyelids falling slowly, but she snapped out of it and stared into his green eyes, not knowing how to react. Especially considering the situation. The revelation that she had more than just a friendship affection for him shocked her as much as the proposal, but the fact that they happened at the exact same time was something that scared her. Coincidence? Or had she been falling for him all this time? Did he notice?

The biggest question of all: How long had he been wantintg to marry her? Was it out of just having to marry someone? Or did he really have feelings for her? She couldn't read the answer out of his eyes, nor his expression. All he wanted now was an answer. Her wondering made her dizzy again, and for a brief second she was unconscious again.

Before she knew it, she had fallen into James' arms.

Regaining her consciousness just in time, she jumped back, surprised. It was as if she had just tried to hug him unexpectedly, but James was more hopeful than anything. Did the attempted embrace mean a yes? Or was it a 'Sorry, but I think you should find someone else, I'm not ready yet' hug? Trying not to turn red like she had, James cleared his throat, realizing he still had her hand in his.

"I..." Elizabeth did not know what to say. What should she tell him? Yes? No? That the 'hug' was just her falling half-unconscious? _No, you don't want to look like a silly girl fainting at a fine man, do you? _She scolded herself. Without thinking, she said, "...I was, I mean, I am, I will, I mean, I..." she stumbled. James' hope rose higher. A smile was creeping its way to his mouth.

"Yes! I, yes, I mean, yes, I will, I mean..." Elizabeth struggled to speak without losing her breath again, "I accept your proposal!" She stuttered, breathing heavily to get her breath back.

James' smile couldn't have been any bigger.

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_So... you like it so far? Review please! I get two reviews, and this story's gonna get up and running. _

_Thnkas for reading, and please, review!_


	3. Cape Vergal

_Hi everyone! I'm so glad I got a positive response to the first chapter, and so, I've continued this little story! Thanks to **sim tastic, TrumpetPlayerExtrordinaire, emma, Miss Chloe** **darlingdaredevil, Thorsten P. Ziegler, **and **englishfreckle,** this innocent little idea is gonna take off! I got 5 Reviews and 2 Story Alerts, and I wasn't even expecting any of those, so thanks!_

_This chapter is about what happened to Will after the Princess was destroyed, and it also has a little bit of (pointless) Norribeth fluff. Oh, and there's some mention of suicide in this chapter, so can someone tell me if that's a little out of line with the rating? I'm not really familiar with fanfiction ratings, only movie ones. Just in case, I've changed the rating to PG (K), not just K . Was it unnecessary? Little bit of help needed here, we don't use these kinds of ratings in Australia! _

_Also, there's a part of this chapter where it's all Italics. Will is fantasizing about what life in Port Royal would be like. It's got a bit of Willabeth – though Will himself didn't know it; he was just fantasizing some girl with a random name (which incidentally turned out to be Elizabeth) – but I promise you, this story is Norribeth! (Sorry Miss Chloe, but I really can't use an OC, it's just not me! And in this chapter, Tim doesn't count, he's hardly part of the story.)_

_Enjoy! _

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Will sighed. Life in the Navy hadn't been all that bad, but he wasn't exactly distraught about getting kicked out – he hadn't liked that white wig at all. Then again, it was what took up most of his time, and the days at what he now called home weren't at all lively, and Will wished Tim had left him with a little more than a shell collection.

Timothy Walder had found him thirteen years ago, when he had washed up onto the beach on the small piece of wood that was now being used as a small desk in Will's room. He raised Will like a son, providing him with a small home and clothing, food and education. Then he disappeared onto the beach one day, to collect even more shells - a hobby Will never found the meaning of - and never returned home. Nobody knows what happened to him, and Will couldn't even contemplate Tim killing himself; he always said to live as long as you could, to make the most out of life, take a chance at everything.

Will had washed up on the deserted beach of Cape Vergal. The town was civilized, unlike the Tortuga that Tim had sometimes talked about. Will had joined the Navy, in hopes of having to sail to Port Royal, an island in Jamaican waters, very near Cape Verges. He'd always dreamt of visiting Port Royal, sometimes even contemplating living there, settling down... but the Navy never took him there.

His outlook at present was nothing but sitting on his bed, staring into space. That wasn't much of a life, at all. He considered becoming a merchant, but he had a black mark on his Navy record now, and he doubted they'd let him back in, even as a merchant and not a soldier. Well, he could always try. But he doubted it.

Stow away? It was possible. Maybe he could join a merchant ship that didn't fly any colors. Just join without any of them noticing, if they were dodgy enough they wouldn't care who joined. If that didn't work, he could always... He smacked his own forehead. _Never. _He'd die before he joined a pirate crew. He wasn't that desperate to get to Port Royal.

Sighing for the fifth time that hour, Will fell back onto his cot and covered his eyes with his hand, wondering at his fate, where he would go, what he would do, how he would get there...

_He smiled, putting his arm around _– what would her name be? Elaina? Elle? Elizabeth? Elizabeth, that sounded nice. – _around Elizabeth's shoulders. Watching their two twins, _- he paused, instantly thinking up two names – _their two twins, Timothy and Weatherby. They were running around, chasing each other, screaming in delight at the snail Timothy was pretending to scare Weatherby with. Elizabeth laughed, a small, impish laugh that Will just smiled at. The sun was setting, its last rays of light shining through the treetops of their front yard, onto the two boys and the happy couple._

He grinned to nobody, enjoying his little fantasy. Another scene formed in his mind.

_He watched her tuck the two boys into bed, kissing their foreheads softly. Walking back to him, she smiled gently, speaking in a low voice, "They're asleep." Her voice was the same as his mother's – _Will stopped thinking, his thoughts immediately coming to a complete halt. _Don't think of that now, you're dreaming, not mourning._

_... He smiled back at her. "We ought to be asleep as well." She nodded, yawning. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to their bedroom, where they slipped into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows. _

William Turner II, at that point, fell asleep.

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James smiled at Elizabeth, who was coming down the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Commodore," Elizabeth said, curtseying as she reached the bottom of stairs. The corner of James' mouth twitched as he hid his amusement at her unnatural curtsey. Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle as well; she knew very well what was making him laugh. Shrugging, she walked toward him. He straightened his posture as she neared, making sure to look important and confident. Elizabeth nearly tripped over with laughter at his change, as it was useless, no-one but the two were in the present room, but he insisted on looking best whenever he could, to 'exercise self-discipline'.

He held out his arm for her to take, which she did with such exaggerated grace that James lowered his arm in amusement, not being able to contain himself. To add to the mirth, she kissed his hand, and soon they were both laughing for absolutely no reason. James stopped first, biting the inside of his cheek to restrain himself, and held his arm out once more.

Elizabeth composed herself and took his arm, with much less exaggeration than before. Smiling warmly, kissing his cheek, she motioned toward the front door. He nodded and led them both out onto the drive.

They walked through the gardens, taking in the scenery and the beautiful weather. Elizabeth, feeling giddy, had felt the need to laugh yet again, but James seemed to have run out of laughter, and besides it might have looked a little odd to the gardener if the couple suddenly burst into incontrollable laughter right in the middle of the gardens.

She just smiled instead. James, watching her, said, "You look _lovely, _Elizabeth." He knew why she was smiling, holding back more laughter, and he had to admit he felt like laughing too. For years he'd dreamt of this day, and here it was. But he couldn't help but sound preposterously snobbish at the word 'lovely', something that would only make her laugh even harder, but she did not, she merely smiled even more widely.

"Oh, yes, thankyou," she said, a familiar fire burning in her eyes. But he knew she was not insulted, merely pretending to be annoyed at him – yet another old joke between the two. "You look _rather _dashing, too, if I may say so," sounding equally snooty with 'rather'. He snorted, but composed himself, and stood straight, only one thought on his mind at that moment.

_The sunset is almost as beautiful as her. _

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_A/N: Hahahaha! See? Pointless, fluffy drabble. Don't we all need some of that? _

_And a little comment: I actually can't imagine Will with one of those whit Navy wigs. Can you? I really can't, Orli playing as Legolas was hard enough to see because his natural hair color isn't blonde (or white), it's a blackish-brownish tinge. But try and imagine it; and tell me if you can or can't see him with such hair. _

_As before; 2 reviews and the next chapter will magically appear soon after... and it just might include a couple of squabbling pirate captains..._


	4. Wedding Arrangements & The Pearl

_Hi guys! I'm so glad I got my story favorited (__**Enigma Starflare**__) and another 3 reviews (__**Thorsten P. Ziegler, englishfreckle **__and __**TheBlackestOfRoses**__)! Now this little story can continue... and if this update seems a little delayed, I apologize, but this is probably going to be the rate they'll be updated, because I have to proof read and copy it from my notebook. Add to that all those annoying end-of-year assignments and events we get... I don't have much time to type anymore, through all the homework and such. So I apologize in advance. _

_But I made it longer than usual! Unless they stay this long..._

_Note in this chapter it gets a little suggestive. Not explicitly or anything, but Weatherby was just asking about Elizabeth's sleeping arrangements. Is it over the "K" line? Tell me, please! Getting reported isn't exactly part of my story plan. _

_This chapter's about Weatherby and Elizabeth getting a little iffy, if that's the right word, about her moving out. Also, call in Captain Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa on the Pearl! 'What, no mutiny yet'? Nope, Jack is still captain and Barbossa is still first mate, and the crew haven't contemplated and/or committed mutiny, and they're still in search of the medallion. Hehe, yeah, they're both cursed. Well, if the medallion's been calling, they're on their way to Cape Vergal… _

_Because of all that, this chapter may be a little longer than I expected... I didn't want to divide it because there was no proper place to do so; I did promise the two squabblers in this chapter so I just made it longer..._

_Uh, yeah... enjoy!_

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"I really do appreciate your decision, Elizabeth," Weatherby smiled at her across the table.

"Well, I couldn't exactly say no, could I?" she replied. Feeling exceptionally joyful that evening, he did not question the meaning of her statement straight away, for it would probably ruin the mood. Nodding as if he understood, Weatherby stuck his fork into a piece of meat, still smiling widely at Elizabeth. "I do hope you didn't accept his proposal purely for the reason of looking proper in society," he went on, against his better judgment. Elizabeth responded by raising a brow at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, well... it's just, you've always had to go against your natural instinct for the sake of looking proper, and this time I was hoping you would choose with your heart and not your head," Weatherby answered cautiously, hoping she didn't take it wrongly. "I also hope, assuming you chose solely for yourself and not propriety, that you do indeed wish to marry the Commodore?"

"Are you in doubt of my decision?" Elizabeth questioned, feeling a little irritated.

"Of course not, dear, I was just..." he trailed off, not knowing how to explain himself. "I just want to have some kind of conversation with you before you move in with him, the house will seem even emptier in your absence, and -" he stopped; Elizabeth had choked on a carrot.

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" Weatherby asked worriedly.

"I-" she coughed, swallowing the caught vegetable as quietly as she could; trying to make absent the disgusting, wet sound that comes when one swallows too hard. Successful, she nodded at her father, trying to cool herself down.

_Move in with him?_ She had only ever been to his residence once or twice, because her father had insisted he attend one of those boring little government tea parties. She had never been in any further than the sitting room, let alone in his room. His place wasn't exactly small, but it wasn't exactly as big as the Swann mansion. According to the Commodore, it had one bedroom, two guest rooms, the essential rooms like the kitchen, and the sitting room. It really wasn't all that big. Just enough for one person. _Or two, _she thought with an inward smile.

She just hoped she would get used to his house eventually. She would have to. They were getting married, after all.

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Later on, at the Commodore's residence, Weatherby approached James. He motioned for him to come into the sitting room, away from the kitchen where the maids were fussing over Elizabeth and her dress.

"Commodore Norrington," he began, a little nervously, "I know you, er, care deeply for Elizabeth..." already, he felt awkward at the conversation and considered forgetting about it and resuming the fittings, but he had to get it done and over with. "...and I understand when she moves in, you plan on, ah..." how was he to put it? '_Commodore, I understand you want to sleep with, rather, next to Elizabeth at night, but I do not wish to have any grandchildren yet, so make sure she sleeps in a different bed to you'_ ? It sounded terribly inappropriate and improper. "...you plan on sharing a-" he coughed "-a bed?"

Norrington blushed.

"Well, I- I presume so, Governor." He said, after much thought. "May I ask the nature of your question?" After a quick thought, he added, "Sir?" The awkwardness of the situation had reached its fullness, and it had the most effect on James. He had never thought Weatherby would have such forwardness, and to be honest he hadn't expected anything from him such as this. Not a _question. _Not a question of such odd topics, anyway.

"I, well..." Swann bit his lip. His instinct was telling him to forget about it, to run away, and face the consequences of his actions – rather, the consequences of his _lack_ of action.

"I do not want to sound too forward or selfish, but, well, I'm not ready for –" he gulped "-grandchildren; not just yet." It was Weatherby's turn to blush, and at the ridicule, James almost laughed out loud. Restraining the corner of his mouth from lifting up, he nodded. "As you wish, sir," he declared in as much of a distinguished manner as he could.

"Good lad, good lad," the governor nodded, looking away, still embarrassed.

James made his way back to the kitchen behind Weatherby, blushing because no-one was watching anyway. He tried to stop it before they reached Elizabeth but he didn't do it very well: Elizabeth gave him a questioning look before she dismissed the maids. She was back in her own clothes, it was traditional that the groom did not see the dress before the wedding so Elizabeth thought her father had just distracted him from seeing it.

Dismissing the thought, she waved the maids away and joined James and her father in lunch.

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"I'm tellin' ye, it's in Spain!" Barbossa growled at Jack.

"And _I'm _tellin' ye, it's on Cape Vergal!" Jack snapped back at him.

The crew rolled their eyes. Why they hadn't committed any mutiny yet, they had no clue. The idea of it was getting even more attractive with each passing day. For several years, their quest for the missing medallions had been a long period of arguments between their captain and first mate. It wasn't as though they were going to die, just stay immortal, which, as Ragetti so proudly stated four months prior, "it's the opposite of dyin', so we ain't got nothin' ta worry abou'!"

What they were squabbling about now was where the 2nd-last medallion resided. For all they knew it could be in _both _Cape Vergal and France. If that was the case, the two men would argue about where to go first. They always had a reason to fight, verbally at least, and it annoyed the heck out of their crewmates. When things did get violent, neither of them ever won. It always ended up with one going over the line with an insult and they were just shouting at each other, swords forgotten on the deck.

Gibbs sighed. He was second mate and, since the captain and first mate never agreed on a decision, he was always the one to make a decision. Of course, the two other men protested, but after some mild threats, Barbossa and Jack eventually agreed. And, it seemed, he was going to decide the destination again this time. He didn't want to take sides, but since they were nearing Jamaican waters already...

"Both of ye, shut up, or I'll lock up th' monkey, throw away its cage key, raid the go'forsaken cellar an' throw away _tha'_ key! An' I'll give th' rum to th' monkey 's well!"

Jack glared at him, but there was a glint of fear in his eyes. Barbossa just rolled his eyes and nodded.

Gibbs resumed his captain-like manner. "We're goin' te Cape Ver-"

"Ah, thanks mate, I'll take i' from 'ere," Jack said smugly.

Barbossa punched his face.

Spitting out a tooth and a mouthful of blood, Jack grinned. "At this rate, me mouth'll be full o' gold, mate."

"It can be full of bilge water for all I care," Barbossa muttered.

Jack regained his own captaincy. "Well, get movin', yeh dirty sea dogs! Make haul the main brace! Snap to, eh, well you know the drill! Headin' north-east!"

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"I do hope you're coping, miss," Estrella said, handing the governor's daughter her quilt. "Getting married is a wonderful virtue, and the Commodore is a very fine man. If it's not too bold to say," she added.

"No, it wasn't. Oh, Estrella, I can't help but wonder what I'm going to do after I move out of here and into his residence. What about the sleeping arrangements? The house keeping? The new maid?" her tone was not patronizing, so Estrella replied with cautious sincerity.

"I do think you're worrying a little, if I may say so," the servant girl smiled. "I wouldn't worry so much, there's no rush, the wedding's in May and it's only January!" Her tone was a little too enthusiastic and Elizabeth knew it.

Sighing, Elizabeth dismissed Estrella with a patient wave of her hand.

_Moving in with him, _she thought. It was a daunting but exciting prospect; she had only ever slept in her house, save for their small villa back in England. Even then, most of her life had been spent in Jamaica and not Europe. She blushed at no-one at the thought of sleeping with- no, sleeping _next to _him. How would she react? She wouldn't know. She had never slept in the same bed as anyone, not even her mother. She had always slept alone.

She would just have to deal with it when the time came. Satisfied with that thought, she blew out the candle on her bedside table and closed her eyes.

Not seven houses down, James was thinking over the day's turn of events. _'...you plan on sharing a bed?' _He hadn't even thought about that, not recently anyway, and the mention took him by surprise. He hadn't considered where she would sleep. He had his own bedroom and two guest rooms, one of which had been quite neglected, its paint peeling in some places and countless cracks on the ceiling. It was bare, save for a creaky mattress and a white desk. He had left it ever since his father had left Port Royal, cleaning it would bring back unwanted, unpleasant memories. He never even let his butler clean it; he wanted nothing to do with the room.

He concentrated his thoughts on the other room. It was considerably cleaner and more taken care of. It had a small bed, a large cupboard and a small desk. It was big enough for Elizabeth, but he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at not telling her about her father's request. Even more so that he had such a spacious room and she would have one not half the size of his.

_Orders are orders, _he told himself. Satisfied with that thought, he blew out the candle on his desk, made his way to his bed in the dark and closed his eyes.

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_A/N: Haha! They're 'fluffing' without even knowing it... _

_Well, once again; 2 reviews and a new chapter will magically appear... and it just might involve a swordfight between (gasps) ORLANDO BLOOM AND JOHNNY DEPP! (gasp) (gasp) Oh, yeah, and Jack (Sparrow? Or Davenport? HAHAHA... itsy-cliffie kind of thing!) will kind of, well, do something that changes the entire course of this story, but big deal... :P _


	5. Prisons and Forts

_Oh wow! We've got a Willabether(__**frenchhornfreak**__) AND a Sparrabether(__**englishfreckle**__) liking this story! And also more thanks to __**sim tastic, TrumpetPlayerExtrordinare **__and __**Becki-ox **__for reviewing... Here's a new chapter for you all!!_

_As for the cliffhanger (type-thing)... It's both Davenport... eh, Norrie... and Sparrow! And I know I promised - well, kind of - that Jack and Will would fight, but not this chapter, the next one maybe. Sorry, that won't happen again! I'll keep my promises from now on._

_Unrelated (Not Really): You know, on the AWE DVD's second disc, there's lots of info on how the Pirate King is elected, a short info clip on each different Pirate Lord and stuff like that... really helpful for fanfics, let me tell you._

_Well, I won't belay yer readin' no longer. Enjoy!_

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"Jack, ye blitherin' idiot!" Barbossa howled.

They weren't in Cape Vergal. Not far from it, but they were in the wrong port. "This is Port Royal!"

Jack shrugged. "So?"

"This be a port of civilized people! Not te mention the bloody King's Navy!" Barbossa shouted in his face, choking Jack with his rum- and apple-stained breath. Making a face, Jack protested. "Well, so what?"

"We're in this stupid little prison cell, is what!" Barbossa hissed, "th' crew've all bin hanged already, ye don't think we c'n get out of this place before we're next?"

"Technically, they've not been hanged; I do recall they are, oh, _immortal?_" Jack snapped, finally breaking under the strain. "And that fact leads to the point of which, they are not dead, they can pretend to be until they get us out of 'ere! And, in the case of it, they are not dead unless they die, which they haven't and won't, so in that case we are safe! Because, if I recall correctly, we're immortal as well!"

"Yes, but so what?" Barbossa growled, "they sunk the Pearl! Again!"

"Ah, well, we could always commandeer another one," Jack muttered, still grieving the loss. "Like tha' Dauntless all them officers were talkin' about. Or tha' Interceptor, they said tha's the fastest."

"You've overlooked one little problem, Jaaaack," Barbossa said mockingly. "We're stuck in here, Jaaaaack."

Jack scrunched up his face stubbornly, like a child. "Not for long, ye'll see," he muttered.

Barbossa begged to differ. They knew nobody in this town. None of their crew, including themselves, had been to Port Royal. They were lost. Completely.

In conclusion: They were doomed.

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James sighed. He had not seen Elizabeth for a few days, ever since the pirate ship had been discovered docked in port. They had quickly attacked and locked up the captain and first mate. The rest of the crew were overcome quickly, and as he watched them being hanged in groups of six, he wished he had talked to Elizabeth the night earlier. He had been let off early, because the admiral had told him to get some rest. Not wanting to disobey orders, he went home, passing the Swann residence. It was only an hour past sundown and he considered visiting Elizabeth, but it would have been disrespectful and impolite for him to show up unexpected.

But now, having not seen her for at least three and a half days, he regretted the decision. Maybe he could retire earlier again tonight.

James sighed once more. There were only two dozen pirates left to hang, and then it was back to the fort for all the paperwork on damages from their attack... he shook his head to no-one, trying not to look impatient. It was completely uncharacteristic of him to want to shirk duty, he felt no shame in admitting so, but he did feel shame in wanting to do it in the first place. He didn't realize someone had been tapping his shoulder for attention for the last few minutes.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I do believe you look uncomfortable, Commodore," Andrew Gillette replied quietly, grinning.

"Don't be so -" he paused. "Well, maybe."

"Is there a sole reason for being so... unsteady, sir?"

"Maybe so, Andrew," James said, refusing to admit the truth of what Gillette alluded to.

"May I enquire as to the reason, sir?" Gillette pressed, determined to get it out of the commodore.

"I do believe you are causing disruption in the gallows, Lieutenant, and I would appreciate that you did not do so," James said, through gritted teeth, in as much of a official voice as he could manage – without blushing.

Gillette smirked. "Apologies, sir." Andrew was a longtime friend, but he really got in James' nerves sometimes.

He sighed yet again. For the first time in his life, he wanted his duty to be put off for one day, just one. He felt ashamed of this; he had always been committed to his schedule, never regretting missing out on social activity because of his duty. But in this case, it was different. He wanted so much to see Elizabeth. To at least know she was safe and well.

They were called back to the fort; the hanging was over. Following the admiral, James managed not to roll his eyes when he was told he was to sign another never-ending pile of papers. Well, not in those words exactly, but that was all he heard. Sitting behind his desk, slouching over the papers, he picked up his pen and started reading.

Four hours later, the sun had long disappeared behind the sea, the candles were down to the end of the wicks, the Commodore's eyelids were drooping, and he wasn't even half done with his pile. James suppressed another groan. How much longer would he be there? His back was beginning to ache, his eyes were giving up, and his hand felt like it could fall off at any moment.

Gillette finished off his last paper and lifted his eyes to the Commodore. He wasn't surprised to see that his usually enthusiastic friend was less than bored. He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere far away from his current position. Not like him at all.

James knew this was not himself, but every time he pushed his thoughts toward the Navy and everyone in it – including Gillette, Captain Garrett, himself, the admiral, the governor... his thoughts somehow always, _always _strayed back to Elizabeth.

"Commodore?" Gillette's voice broke the silence that had stretched over two hours.

"Hm?" James had not spoken for such a long time, all he could do was grunt. Realizing his unnatural mistake, he groaned, too tired to think about anything for the sake of propriety. Besides, it was only him and the Lieutenant in the room at present; what was the point?

"Yes, Lieutenant?" James asked, scratching his wig - it was really irritating him now.

"Are you... well, sir?" Gillette answered, cautiously.

Discreetly blinking the sleep out of his eyes, James nodded, though it wasn't really all that enthusiastic, and Gillette knew it.

"You can go home, Commodore, I wouldn't stop you from doing so," Gillette said.

"I do not need to return home, Gillette. I do recall that I need to finish these papers, as well, and I do not intend to return home until I do."

"But," the lieutenant pressed, "you are not well, sir. You are less than bored with this assignment and I can tell you need rest."

Too tired to argue but not wanting to shirk duty, James fiddled with his hat, undecisive, silently admitting that Gillette spoke the truth.

"Take the papers home," Gillette continued, "and finish them in the morning, before you come to the fort."

It was a good tactic, James had to admit. So why not? Putting his hat back on, James stood up and nodded at Gillette, who began to tidy up his desk. The Commodore gathered up the unsigned papers and bade Gillette goodnight, yawning as soon as he was out of sight. It had been a long day. He did need rest, that much was true.

It was mid evening, by which time everyone would be finishing dinner and preparing for bed. He may as well go straight home, he doubted the Swanns would admit him at this hour... then again, he hadn't seen Elizabeth for nearly a week. Would he be granted inside? Or was it really too late?

Yes. It was too late. He would just have to wait another day.

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_James taking home those papers and the Pearl arriving in Port Royal? Yeah, not much, but it will really change this story._

_And in the next chapter, we catch up with Will and James confides Elizabeth in their sleeping arrangements... he's gotta find a way to say that her father won't allow them to copulate for quite a while, lol. How? Well... _

_This chapter 2 reviews NEW CHAPPIE!!_

_Make sense? It should. XD. _


	6. I Feel Like Such A Fool

_Oh, wow, guys, I'm sooo sorry about the JE/WE mix up! I was probably just tired. I fixed it so don't worry! You're back to your proper ships. ;)_

_I got such a quick response from my new chapter and I'm really thrilled by it! So I wrote a longer chapter than what I would call my usual, and quicker too! I just get really ecstatic when I see that I have more emails in my inbox... more thanks to_ _**sim tastic,**__**Becki-ox, englishfreckle, ross ithil wen, frenchhornfreak, LORD commodore norry, TrumpetPlayerExtrordinare, AllMightyPen **__and ____for reviewing; those comments mean so much to me!_

_First up; how does James confide in Elizabeth on their sleeping arrangements? Then read about what Will is getting up to - there's a few words on that medallion that make him want to throw it away, as well. (I made it up, by the way.) Also, we have a small flashback in Norrington's POV. I just wanted to do a first-person thing in this story and a flashback seemed appropriate. And what he flashes back on might make you laugh at such corny stuff. Does that give you any clue? –alienated music plays- _

_...uh, right, anyway..._

_No Jack or Barbossa in this chapter, sorry about that... and no big Bloom/Depp fight scene either. Argh! Well, I promise, with all sincerity, that they will fight within the next 3 chapters! Please bear with me; I just keep getting more ideas. But there will __definitely__ be a big fight scene between 'em both, I promise you that! To make it up to you guys I wrote a longer chapter than what I would call my 'usual' length (which is 3 Word Document pages long). This one equaled 6 pages, with size 12 Verdana font. Go me! _

_Oh yeah, I don't know about this, but a friend of mine told me that I should have a disclaimer at the start of each chapter... so, okay, I will._

**DISCLAIMER:**_I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Ted 'n' Terry 'n' Mr. Disney do. (It's too bad, really...)_

_Well, sorry fer ramblin'... __I won't belay yer readin' no longer. Enjoy!_

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It was the next morning. James had had good four-and-a-half hours of sleep before waking up to the sunrise. He finished his papers just as the sun completely revealed itself. By that time, the citizens of Port Royal - Elizabeth included - would be yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. James, however, had done so a mere 2 hours earlier than what he expected, but he had to finish those papers before he was called back to the fort. And he wanted them done and over so as to have some time to visit Elizabeth, if only for a quarter of an hour, before duty called.

At long last, he was decent and his papers were finished. He had no call from the Navy, so he made his way to the Swann household after breakfast, concluding that the Governor would accept him in after he reasoned that he needed to tell Elizabeth about their sleeping arrangements. It was a valid reason, was it not? It had to be; after all, it was the Governor himself that made the request.

By the time he had rehearsed his brief speech, he was standing at the end of the Swann's drive, squinting in the mid-morning sun, wondering if the movement in the upper-left window was Elizabeth or her maid. Slowly, he made his way up the drive, already half-regretting the decision. But the doorman had already spotted him and, as James could see through the window, was walking up the stairs to tell the Governor. To turn back now would have been disrespectful, and he did not want the doorman to look like a fool, so he continued his way up the path.

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"The Commodore is here to see you, miss," Estrella called to Elizabeth from the doorway.

"I shall be right down," Elizabeth replied, retrieving her bonnet from her bed and tying it around her neck.

"I'll tell him, miss." Estrella nodded, disappearing down the hallway.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had not seen him for the last few days; she had missed him and was relieved to know he was still well after the pirate attack.

Closing the door behind her, she walked down the hallway, cheeks red with anticipation and nervousness. How was she to respond to him? She was comfortable around him, but after being out-of-practice in his absence, she had forgotten how to act. She hadn't been out of the house lately, either, she had mostly sat in her room, watching the horizon or reading a book. Since she was a young girl, propriety had been a minor priority - even though her father begged to differ - and Elizabeth often forgot how to act. She had practice with James: he knew she loathed looking like a high-class woman, as such, and quickly forgave her in knowing that she was trying. Such an honorable man he was.

Elizabeth smiled inwardly at the thought.

She made her way down the stairs. She could see James standing in front of the open doorway, looking his usual confident self. From the height and distance she was from him, Elizabeth couldn't be sure, but he looked tired, as if he had slept late and risen early. (She had no idea how right she was.) But he was still smiling, a real smile, as she descended the stairs toward him. She approached him and he kissed her hand gently.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," James greeted, his smile widening.

"Good morning, Commodore," she replied, sounding just as proper as he. "How have you been lately?"

"I have been well, but..." he paused. "The task of signing paper after paper on deceased men has tired me out." At her concerned expression he added, "I am still well enough to see you, however."

"That point has been proved," she said, half in jest.

James smiled at her light joke and went on, "I have been... looking forward to seeing you, Elizabeth," he said, looking her straight into the eye, "but there is something I must discuss with you about..." he stopped, not knowing how to go on.

Elizabeth nodded and took his arm, which had been hanging for a few moments. They walked out the door and started down the drive, Elizabeth taking in the morning air and James feeling like it was early afternoon already: he was sweating profusely underneath his naval coat.

"I... Your father has made a request of us," he began, thinking it over and deciding it was proper enough. "He has asked that we do not... share a bed."

Elizabeth's eyebrow raised slightly, which was a slightly difficult task on the fact that the bright morning sun was making her squint.

"He has... requested so, because..." James flushed scarlet. Elizabeth hid a smile. Instead, she nodded – a little solemnly – to indicate for him to continue.

"Because... he does not want us to... have children," James finished, averting his eyes from hers, embarrassed.

Elizabeth was also embarrassed, but she did not show it.

"Ah," was all she managed to get out. They stopped at the end of the drive and stood looking at each other for a few awkward seconds of silence.

James broke the awkwardness with a barely audible whisper, "I wasn't... planning on having children as of yet."

Elizabeth blushed. "Ah..." she repeated, unable to think of anything else.

"I... do not want to disobey your father's orders, but I was... wondering if you had any, er, objections."

"I... no, I will go along with it," Elizabeth replied nervously, hoping it was the right answer, for the Commodore's sake. She smiled cautiously at him, hoping it would back up her encouraging opinion.

James couldn't do anything but smile and wipe the sweat from his brow.

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Will moaned and put his face in his hands. He had nothing to do, nothing to see, nowhere to go... life was turning out to be very, very, _very _boring. If only he was still in the Navy. Sure, he had to sign endless piles of papers, but it was better than nothing at all. Or he could be out on a pointless but time-consuming patrol of the waters surrounding the cape.

But no. He was sitting at his desk; the slightly-symbolic table carved out of the wood he had washed up with, the last reminder - apart from the medallion - of his parents.

_The medallion. _

He lifted the medallion from where it lay under his bed. He wiped a layer of dust from it and examined it more closely. As usual, he saw the pirate skull surrounded by intricate swirls of gold, but he held it up to the light, thinking that, if cleaning it would take a few minutes of his time, he at least would have done something "exciting" that day. As it glinted in the sunlight, he could see, in finely scratched words, on the side: _Heathen gods curse thou. _

Will was surprised, to say the least. Heathen gods? A curse? What did it mean? What _could _it mean was the question. Did his father send the medallion for a darker reason than what he said? Did his father know about it at all?

A chill crept under the door and into Will's room. The candle on the desk went out and the room was dimmed. His hair waved around, as if he was outside, but the wind was gone as soon as it was there.

The medallion scared him now. Tossing it blindly across the room, Will jumped out of his chair and leapt into bed, stuffing his head underneath the pillows, blanking his mind and trying to sleep.

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As the Swann mansion disappeared out of sight, James smacked himself in the forehead.

Why did he say that? It was truth, yes, but it was too soon; too forward. He wasn't even thinking when he said it. He didn't even know how those four words got past his throat, let alone his teeth. He should have left it at 'goodbye'. But he had to go forward and leave Elizabeth feeling awkward, didn't he?

He sighed, massaging his head where he had hit himself, thinking back on the scene as he walked down the road to the fort.

_I flushed scarlet, hoping she didn't take it wrongly. She might not have believed me either; perhaps she thinks I'm just a coward..._

_No, she's smiling at me. Smile back, smile back, smile back..._

_Success! A smile. Phew. Um, what to say, what to say, what to say? Quickquickquickquick..._

"_I'm afraid I have to leave you at that," I blurted, feeling the need to get out of there. If I stayed I would probably turn red and lose all of my nerves. It wasn't Elizabeth, just me. I was too embarrassed to say any more. So I bade her goodbye. It was cowardly but I was desperate. I just couldn't concentrate. _

_She nodded and kissed my cheek. Only briefly, but it felt like an eternity. She could have stayed there for ever and I wouldn't have minded. But she didn't linger. She smiled at me and I kissed her hand, again saying farewell. She smiled one last time and made her way back up the drive. I should have led her back up to her door, but I didn't. I just stared at her retreating back. As she made her way up the steps, something made me say it. _

_She was at the top of the stair when I called out, "I love you, Elizabeth!"_

_She seemed to pause momentarily, as if she was going to say something, but she didn't. She just turned back to me and waved, smiling widely. I bowed and my beloved disappeared back inside. _

He groaned to himself. Now he felt like a fool. He didn't know why. Elizabeth didn't seem to mind his words, so he had nothing to be ashamed of. But he was ashamed of something.

He just didn't know what.

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_AHAHAHAHAHA... you don't know how much fun that was to write, seriously. In fact I'm considering a oneshot in his POV that could fit in with this story, or without it, I'm not sure... it's just an idea. But seriously, that was really fun! _

_Well, back to the story... I know Will's segment was brief but it's all we need to know right now. The next chapter won't be so full of Norrie & Elizabeth, more Barbossa and Jack and the rest of the Pearl's crew. _

_Has anyone realized that the initials of NonExistant can be read as NE? Haha... seriously, has anyone picked that up yet? No? Yes? Well, you know now, because I've told you... but did any pick that up as soon as you saw the title? I managed to find a word that fits with this story as well as representing the pairing within it (NE). Did anyone at all pick that up straight away? It wasn't supposed to be discreet: in fact, I was hoping it looked obvious. Well, anyway... forget it, it's not related. I was just wondering._

_You know what? I've reached my maximum amount of reviews in any multi-chapter story I've ever written, so I'm no longer desperate. Though it would be quite a sight to reach 34 (Mr. Legendary Jack Davenport's age) in lieu of our little 'hero'. Wouldn't it? lol... nah. So, yeah! Any comments are welcomed, be they flames or praise, or, heck, just review already! But I don't have any expectations; I'll post a new chapter whether or not I get a review. I trust you guys enough to know that I don't need reassurance. Thanks for that!_

_-waves- _


	7. Piratey Escapades

_Thank you ALL for your reviews! I guess you guys'll review anyway, whether or not I ask for 'em, LOL. They really mean a lot to me and make my day__**. Becki-ox, LORD commodore norry, englishfreckle, frenchhornfreak, TrumpetPlayerExtrordinare**__ and__** eboNy333**__; you've all helped me reach my personal review record EVER - on any story - of 29! Maybe we can get 5 more and reach 34!!! (If you don't get what I mean, you didn't read my author notes on my last chapter.) Let's try!_

_This one doesn't have any Elizabeth in it, but more on Jack and Barbossa, and their escape. And, of course, lines from CotBP. In fact, a whole scene with a character replacing Will. I think you know what I mean by now, but anyway... By the way, the scene was done from what I remember off by heart, so I apologize in advance if I get any other scenes used in this story with incorrect lines. _

_I wouldn't call this my best chapter. In fact, in my opinion, it's pretty shoddy. Er, never mind._

_Oh, yeah, and I promise you this: They reach Cape Vergal at the end of this chapter; meaning a BIG FIGHT BETWEEN JACK & WILL!! (in the next chapter.)_

_Stay tuned, kiddies. (Sorry, I couldn't help it; I haven't used that word in ages.)_

_I won't belay yer readin' no longer. Enjoy!_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__ I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Ted 'n' Terry 'n' Mr. Disney do. (It's too bad, really...) _

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"What in the seven hells are ye doin', Jack?" Barbossa said, getting even more irritated at the pirate captain. Jack was hitting, lifting and pushing the door in every possible direction as means of an escape. Hector had insisted that they use a bone from the floor and manipulate the dog, but Jack insisted, just as firmly, that the dog was 'never going to move'. And it didn't. So Barbossa had given up and Jack had started banging away at the cell door, hoping it would give way after a few good hits.

He wasn't wrong.

Using all his might, he put his arms at an angle that fit through the bars and then pushed down, so that his elbow was pointing to the floor and his hand pointed to the ceiling, outside the cell. He held his arms there for a few seconds, using all his strength. He thought his bones would break just as a clang rang out. Barbossa sat up, startled. Jack held the iron door, quietly setting it down on the floor.

"How in the seven hells did ye do that?" Barbossa asked, awed, but with no intention of showing such a feeling.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate," Jack replied sneeringly, taking his effects, along with his hat, from where they hung on the wall. Barbossa snatched his pistols back as well, and the two scuttled up the stairs as quietly as they could so as not to attract any attention. It wasn't so hard really; once they were outside, they would be free again.

Free to "commandeer" a ship to Cape Vergal.

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James and four other officers were standing around James' desk, pouring over a map of the surrounding waters of Port Royal.

"I say we should go on patrol up to here, sir," Stevens was saying, pointing to Cape Vergal, just as Gillette burst into the room.

"Commodore!" Gillette yelped loudly. A few officers looked slightly disgruntled at the obtrusion, but returned to their work after giving the lieutenant dirty looks.

"They've taken the ship, sir," Gillette panted. "Sparrow and that other man! They've taken the Dauntless! They're leaving the port!"

James groaned inwardly. Another job to hold up my meeting with Elizabeth... "Let's go, men!" he called, leading them out of the fort and rushing down to the docks.

Once they reached the docks, the Dauntless was already too far out to be in range. They had to sail after them.

"All aboard the Interceptor! Now!" James shouted to his men, who complied immediately, dropping sail and rowing quickly. The Interceptor would catch up to the Dauntless quickly, James was sure. They wouldn't be able to outrun them. He was right. They soon caught up and boarded the Dauntless. It felt odd to James, having to board the Naval ship. He pushed away the feeling that something was wrong and ordered his men to start searching the ship. "Search every cabin, every hold, down to the bilges." He called, hoping he was right.

The officers rushed below decks, searching for Jack and his first mate. None of them noticed Jack and Barbossa climbing down the starboard side, to the Interceptor. Nor did they hear Jack cutting the ropes that held the ships together. It was only when the boarding plank fell and splashed into the water that Norrington realized they had been tricked.

"Sailors, back to the Interceptor! Now!" He yelled, running to starboard and helplessly watching the two scallywags make off with the naval ship, his face fallen.

Jack was at the wheel, saluting James with his hat. "Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way!" he taunted, a smug grin on his face. "We'd have had a hard time doin' it by ourselves."

James' men started shooting at the Interceptor, but Barbossa threw himself on the deck and Jack ducked. Neither was hit.

James turned around, his face contempt with fury. "Set topsails and clear up this mess."

"With this wind near the stern we won't catch them!"

"I don't need to," James replied angrily. "Just get them in range of the long nines."

Groves complied. "Men! Run out the guns!" he turned to Norrington and asked, "We are to... fire on our own ship, sir?"

James bit his lip. "I'd rather see her at the bottom of the ocean than in the hands of a pirate."

The helmsman called out. "Commodore! He's disabled the rudder chain, sir."

James groaned. It was hopeless now. They had fallen into Sparrow's trap.

"That's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen," Groves said, awed at the wily pirate captain's clever plan.

The commodore glared at the lowering sun, cursing his luck.

"So it may seem."

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Barbossa and Jack shuddered at the same time.

"The medallion's callin'," Barbossa murmured, knowing that Jack had felt what he had too. It was like a sudden wind chill that lasted for a split second, only inside them, in their bodies, and not their skin. And when it did happen, all the hunger, lust, and thirst that they suffered hit in a huge but short wave.

Hence the shudder.

"I'd do anythin' to taste rum again," Jack muttered, watching his compass swerve toward the bottle behind him.

"Oh, shut up," Barbossa said irritably, "you're not alone in yer feelings. I yearn fer apples but I don't prattle on about it."

"Rum's better than apples."

"_Apples_ are better than_ rum_."

"Rum goes with anythin'!" Jack defended.

"Apples can too!" Barbossa responded.

"Rum can be consumed without teeth!" Jack pointed out.

"Apples can be used to hit people," Barbossa shot back, a little threateningly.

"Rum bottles can be smashed against one's head." Jack grinned smugly. He had won that one.

"Apple stops scurvy!"

Jack's smiled faded. "Well... rum stops depression," he tried, but Barbossa just cackled.

"Yeah, you laugh now, you witty little..." Jack grumbled, his voice trailing off.

They did not talk to each other after that for the rest of the voyage, which was only a half hour long. Cape Vergal really wasn't far. And it wasn't as strict as Port Royal, though it did have the Royal Navy. But they could just land somewhere out of sight - like the cliffs that Jack had pointed out - so they wouldn't be caught. Whatever happened, they would not be caught, because Jack was Jack.

The Interceptor landed on the same deserted beach Tom had found Will.

And it was just bad luck for the two pirates on board, because Will had come out of his house just as washed up.

"Ex-naval officer reporting!" They heard Will yell. "Show yourselves! You're not officers, I can tell! And you're aboard a Naval ship, alone!"

Jack saw that Will had a cutlass in his right hand. He and Barbossa, however, had been rid of their swords and were armed with only two pistols, which, upon closer inspection by Barbossa, were bullet...less.

Jack swore. "Bugger it..."

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"Commodore, the Interceptor... what do we do?"

"Inform the admiral and request its search party, Lieutenant," James ordered, trying to get rid of Gillette quickly. He wanted to sit down for just one minute and think things over, he wouldn't put up with anything if he didn't get any rest.

If he were to go on a search mission, how long would it take? He wouldn't see Elizabeth for days, if he left. He couldn't do that. And if they left within the hour, he wouldn't even have time to tell her. She had to know. But he couldn't just leave.

He sighed. He had to leave without telling Elizabeth. It would burden him for the entire trip, but it couldn't be helped.

Unfortunately.

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_Aaaaaaaannnnnd we'll leave it there. (Sorry. Weak.)_

_But, let me say one thing: The wedding!! THE WEDDING!! WILL IT EVER COME? _

_In the chapter after the next, it __**will**__!! (Yes, SQUEE, my pretties! SQUEEE!) _

_Something to look forward to after the Orli/Colonel fight. (Colonel is one of Depp's nicknames, in case you were wondering.)_

_Hey, unrelated: has anyone watched _The Talented Mr. Ripley_ (1999)? 'Cos if you have, I now regret naming this guy 'Tom'. Watch the last scene. You'll understand. –cries-_

_Yep, well, that's all for now I guess. Stay with me 'til the next chapter (please?)_

_-waves- _


	8. Eunuchy

_YIPPEE! Guys... we only need 1 more review to reach 34!! Thank you to __**JazzTrumpet, Becki-ox, englishfreckle, eboNy333 **__and (number 34!!!!) __**frenchhornfreak**__ for contributing to that! I am so thrilled... _

_Sorry for the one-day delay... we had an end-of-year party last night and I didn't have any time to update. So I made this chapter longer! So instead of just Will and Jack fighting, we shall see Elizabeth & James. XD. _

_I will apologize in advance: The fight scene is not at all what it is cut out to be. It's not even ver action-full... if you know what I mean. It merely involves a punch-out and someone throwing a bunch of shells at another. Sorry... I know it's bad. I''l just have another, bigger, fight scene later on in the story. _

_Also, the long 'unforseeable circumstances' line that Jack said is from off the top of my head... and so, if I got it wrong, I apologize._

_Yes, well, I won't belay yer readin' no longer. Enjoy!_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__ I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Ted 'n' Terry 'n' Mr. Disney do. (It's too bad, really...) _

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"Come on! Get off the ship!" Will yelled from the sand, unsheathing his sword.

"Damn it all, Jack, look where you've led us," Barbossa snarled. "We're dead! We may as well go back to Port Royal and into the noose!"

"I thought _you _were the captain," Jack hissed back. Barbossa had, indeed, fought with Jack over captaincy yet again for the entire trip. In that half hour, no words had been exchanged, but they had both taken the wheel. Discreetly at first, Jack had turned the ship two degrees starboard, and shortly after, Barbossa turned it back two degrees – to _port _side. And so it went on, until the two men had been clambering over their side of the wheel. By then the beach had been in sight and so they let go of the wheel and allowed the ship to wash up.

And then Will had arrived.

"Come on!" he yelled again. "Come out and surrender!"

Jack thought for a moment. Then he stood up from behind the cannon he had been hiding behind.

Will saw Jack and cocked his pistol, aiming it up at Jack. "You there! Surrender!"

"I'll do no such thing!" Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll shoot!" Will threatened, putting his finger on the trigger.

Jack ducked down and crawled toward his cabin. The boy was still yelling.

"Stand up! Show yourselves!"

Once back in his cabin, Jack did indeed "stand up", but without any intention of "showing himself".

"Where is it, where is it..." Jack mumbled, searching his desk drawers.

"I've got a gun!" Will yelled angrily.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you little eunuch," Jack grumbled, searching underneath his bed.

_Ah, success. _He pulled it from under the mattress and dragged it along behind him, back through the doorway. The wood beneath him scratched against it and started creaking and groaning under the weight.

"Try me!" Will yelled. Who were those people? Even thought he wasn't a trainee seaman any more, it was his civic duty to stop any unidentified men from entering - and, obviously, this included those who refused to hand in themselves. Or at least give their names.

Barbossa splayed his hands as if to say, _What are you doing? _

Jack winked. Barbossa rolled his eyes. The pirate captain's wink obviously meant: "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate." Jack lugged the thing, still out of sight behind the stairs to the poop deck, keeping as quiet as he could.

Will started climbing, using the planks and slats to aid him. Barbossa peered over the edge, bewildered. He motioned for Jack to hurry up. Will glared at Barbossa as he climbed. "And... here ya go!" Jack threw the rum barrel over the edge. Will let out a cry of horror and jumped back onto the sand, just dodging the heavy drum. He landed on his side, grunting in pain.

Barbossa rushed over to Jack. "What th'hell was that?"

"I just stopped 'im from climbing up here, is what! You should be grateful b'cause I just saved our lives." As he said this, Will pulled the trigger.

Jack's hat flew off his head, landing just to the left of Barbossa. "What in the..." he picked up his hat. "Me hat!" He cried, waving it about madly. "Me hat! Me hat has an 'ole in it!"

"Well, _ye _should be grateful tha' the bullet got yer _hat _and not yer _head_... though I'm 'fraid I can' say the same..."

"But... but my hat..." Jack whimpered, letting said hat fall to the floor, a sign of defeat.

"I _said _get down here!" Will yelled, rubbing his right shoulder, throwing the now-empty pistol to the floor and unsheathing his cutlass. "Get down here and fight, you cowards!"

"Yeah, yeah... You comin', Hector?"

"You got us into this!" Barbossa growled. "You get us out!"

"Coward..." Jack muttered, before grabbing a rope and swinging onto the sand, just in front of Will.

"Now... what's all th' fuss about, mate? We're just stoppin' here to find something..." he paused, noticing Will's necklace and what was at the end of said necklace: namely, what they were looking for.

"And that would be some food?" Will mocked, raising his cutlass to Jack's neck. "I don't think so. You're pirates. I know you are."

"Ah, actually... I don't think you're exactly all that mistaken."

Will lunged. Jack ducked and rolled around Will's legs, so that Will's back was facing the sea.

"Ta." Jack spun on his heel and pelted up the beach, toward Will's shack.

"Oi! Get back here!" Will cried, running after Jack.

Jack pounded up the hill, boots digging into the wet sand. It was hard work. Finally reaching Will's door - which had been left wide open - he dove into the house and immediately froze at the surroundings, cocking his head to the side as he took it in.

_Shells._ And lots of them. Hanging from the ceiling, piled in jars, arranged on shelves... there could have been thousands of them.

"You're trapped!" Will said triumphantly, blocking the doorway.

Jack didn't even flinch. "Who collects all these?" he muttered, motioning toward the shells.

Will was taken aback by this random question. "My guardian and I."

Jack raised his brow. "You're not serious, mate?"

"Yes. I am."

"No offence, but you need to find yourself a girl, mate," he grinned, ducking the blade aimed at his head that followed his statement. Jack grabbed a handful of shells from the nearest shelf and started pelting them at Will. Will ducked, dodging the shells. "Stop it! They took years to collect!"

"Mate, you know how... eunuchy... that sounds?" Jack said, making a face, dropping the shells back on the floor.

Will responded by dropping his sword and tackling Jack to the floor, overcome with rage, pulling back his fist. He was very, very angry, as his mother would have put it. Will only ever got 'angry', never past 'quite angry', let alone 'very angry', 'seemingly very angry', and 'very, very angry'. Will was shocked at himself for feeling so... angry.

Jack stopped Will's fist in mid-punch. "And you attacking a man of the same gender to the ground says something else, too..." Jack grinned, unable to contain himself.

"Tell ya what, mate," Jack said, putting Will's fist to the side, "I'll offer ye a deal. I give ye a way out of here, and you keep me alive."

Will stood up, stopping himself from turning red. "What do you mean?" he asked in a steady voice.

"Ye spare me life, and I get you out of this..." he gestured all around the shack, "...place."

"I don't want to leave this 'place'," Will replied curtly, though he was eyeing Jack thoughtfully. He did want to get out of Cape Vergal. But he knew the pirate wasn't offering him a way out just because he wanted to save his neck. "What is it you're looking for?"

"Ah... we found it, you just have to come with us," Jack explained, though not very well.

"Me? You're not taking me! I belong here!"

"Exactly..." Jack muttered. Barbossa threw the fishing net over Will, taking him by surprise. "Don't say a word," Jack advised, watching Barbossa throw Will over his shoulder as easily as a blanket.

"Let... me... go..." Will said through gritted teeth, squirming in Barbossa's strong grip.

"Sorry, mate, but through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me... well, they _do_ have everything to do with me... I can't just let you go." Jack finished.

Will scowled.

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Elizabeth fiddled with her pillow. She couldn't get to sleep. James had left Port Royal so suddenly. She understood why he hadn't been able to see her first, but she was worried for him. She had always been interested in pirates, but never really worried for anyone - close to her anyway - in danger of pirates.

What were they capable of? Apparently this Sparrow fellow had only ever been caught once, by a man called Beckett, many years earlier. Ever since he had not once been caught, and Elizabeth was worried that the stories about the Black Pearl roaming the Caribbean, leaving no survivors of its challengers, were true. She hoped not. She dearly hoped not.

Her father had reassured her that James would be fine, but she couldn't be sure. She could never be sure, not when pirates were the case. She wasn't any less interested in pirates because of it, however; if anything, she was even more intrigued.

But she couldn't brush away the thought that something had happened to James. She just couldn't.

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"Sail ho, captain!"

The Navy officers had been told to take the _Intriguing _instead of the _Dauntless, _because it was the fastest ship after the _Interceptor. _James had to agree. Sparrow had made off with the Caribbean's fastest Naval ship, and he wasn't getting away with it, not a chance.

They lost Sparrow for a while, but kept on sailing in the general north-west direction, and eventually coming up to Cape Vergal, where the _Interceptor _was, quite surprisingly, washed up on the beach. There were no signs of life, however.

James readied his men and they landed the _Intriguing _just a few hundred feet from the _Interceptor, _in case there was anyone onboard.

Three lone figures came out of a shack just in front of the house, and the Navy men promptly rounded up on the sand and surrounded the two. One was Sparrow himself, the other was probably a civilian. Sparrow's first mate was carrying the other man across his shoulder. James scowled.

"You! Put down that man! Surrender!"

Jack swore. "Bugger it..."

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_AHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Poor Jack. _

_So. What do you think? _

_I'll hopefully have more up this time next week; expect wedding bells... and a very long chapter... XD._


	9. The Marriage

_Woo! Victory dance! Most number of reviews on a story, EVER, and, my longest chapter, EVER! I've never used up so many pages._

_I'm so disappointed with myself... I didn't even elaborate on the freaking wedding! I just skipped straight to the romance. -sigh- Hardly any Jack or Barbossa – yes, they're mentioned, but it's all James and Elizabeth, and a tiny little bit of Will, just for kicks. Norrie and Elizabeth need some romance before we get to the next part of the story, right? So, yes, this is the most romance out of one chapter you'll get for a while. But like I said, a longer chapter. MUCH LONGER. Like four times the normal length: I couldn't bear to cut it in half. Or quarters, for that matter... _

_And, I'm sorry, I _had_ to put in another bit in James' POV. It's too fun not to!_

_And, James reminiscing. Hoo-rah. Actually, yes, hoo-rah! because any Norribether will LOVE what follows up, comfort ensues... It may _sound _a little explicit, but I assure you, there are no such intentions of... oh, just read the chapter already, will you?_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__ I own nothing. Bleh. Okay, read the chapter now. _

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They had been unarmed against the Royal Navy. They had to surrender.

It was all too surreal, in Will's opinion.

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In recognition of his help, Will was given a place in Port Royal as the apprentice blacksmith to Mr. Brown. Todd, the other apprentice, had moved to America and it seemed Mr. Brown's orders were more delayed than what it was when Todd was around. It seemed they needed another blacksmith, and by Gillette's reckoning, Will was given the job.

Jack and Barbossa were thrown back into the prison, and they threw out the key. They stayed inside for a good week and a half before escaping again. James handed the pursuit over to the Lieutenant; he wanted to stay in Port Royal for a month or so, with obvious good reason.

James was all too happy to leave Sparrow alone. He hadn't seen Elizabeth in two-and-a-half months, because of all the paperwork and an emergency stop at a nearby island, where many of his men were lost because of disease. It seemed a lifetime ago he had proposed, but it wasn't that long; just back in February. But time had flown and it was now the first week of May. They were due to get married in two weeks' time, and James had not done anything about it.

But it was not for long he remained unknown to the situation. Once reunited with Elizabeth, on which occasion the two embraced for a very long time, they set to the wedding arrangements: The guest list, the decorations, the clothing... Elizabeth had already finished her wedding dress fittings. She had requested no corset, and thankfully, her father complied - though reluctantly - and now it was James' turn.

He did not pay much attention to the fittings. His mind was too far away. He was thinking about Sparrow, and what would happen once they were married.

Sparrow... _I glared angrily at him, holding him roughly by the shoulder, pushing him down the stairs of the _Dauntless _to the brig. He was going to stay in prison for a long, long time. Well, at least until he gets hung. I was overjoyed; the idiot had finally been captured... by me. _Me._ Maybe I was getting too arrogant, too egoistic... but I'll probably even get promoted... to Admiral... and Elizabeth's going to marry me... life is turning out so well..._

_Just this one little annoyance, this pesty pirate and his rotting first mate, and once they were dead, this would all be uphill. Thanking God, I shoved Sparrow through the cell door, a sneer planted across my face. "You really shouldn't have put up a fight. My colleagues beat you within minutes. And soon your letters will be all signed and you will be a rotting corpse in the back of a rickshaw. Didn't you know that the pen is mightier than the sword?"_

_He just winked at me. "Definitely. The pen's much mightier... 'cept, o'course, in sword fights."_

_I slammed the door shut, angry because I couldn't think of a clever reply, and stalked back to my cabin. There I thought about Elizabeth..._

_Now that she knew of her father's request, where was she to sleep? The other room? No, she would feel too isolated and possibly even abandoned. I definitely didn't want that..._

James asked his butler to move the spare bed into his room. Then they could be in the same room, just not the same bed. Surely, Weatherby would not mind? He hoped not; the Governor seemed far too busy these days for James to 'drop in for a chat', and James' schedule was also quite tight - between the fittings and arrangements, he still had many papers to sign up at the fort, plus the short meetings with Elizabeth in the early evenings (and even then, Weatherby was busy with his papers). So he just had to hope the governor would approve.

The next two weeks passed by quickly, and before they knew it, the big day had arrived. James had met with Elizabeth the day before and informed of the sleeping arrangements, with which she agreed to immediately.

"I've requested that we move your bed into my sleeping quarters," he began formally, "so that we do not disobey your father's request."

He paused. That was all she needed to know now, really, he had no more purpose at her residence for the day. He tried to think of something to say.

"I am, ah, very... very nervous about tomorrow," he stuttered, unable to think of anything else. It was the truth anyway, he was sure of that.

"As am I, James," she smiled kindly. "You are not the only one."

He flushed red. He had to explain something first, before they got married. He knew he had to, he knew she was expecting it, and she knew that he knew. So he had no choice now.

"Elizabeth... I... about what I said, a few months ago, before I left, I-"

She cut him short with a tight hug. It was very sudden and James almost lost his balance. He kept his balance, with much difficulty.

Elizabeth whispered into his ear, "I love you too, James." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his ear turn pink. She grinned into his shoulder. They stayed in that position for a few awkward moments of silence, not knowing what to do next. Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to pull away, not yet. James didn't know how to react, or what to say... or where to put his arms. It seemed too stiff to keep them at his sides, but if he put them around Elizabeth, they would be put into more awkwardness. He did the only thing he could think of.

He cleared his throat.

She stepped back, biting her lip. "I... I apologize for my forwardness," she mumbled, dropping her eyes to the floor.

James swallowed. He hadn't meant to upset her.

"I... don't be sorry," James said comfortingly, "at least we will wed knowing that it was not just for the sake of propriety."

Elizabeth lifted her mischievous, light brown eyes and looked straight into James' serious green ones, an amused grin plastered across her face.

"I very much agree."

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For James and Elizabeth, the ceremony passed in a blur. Vows were exchanged, rings were swapped and finally, "You may kiss the bride" was outspoken within the grounds of the Swann's courtyard, and James couldn't suppress a grin as he leaned forward.

The congratulations and well-wishing that followed was what Elizabeth couldn't stand, and when another pompous-looking woman approached her, she couldn't help but tighten her grip on James' arm just a little. He noticed her shift and smiled down at her, a reassuring smile that caused Elizabeth to relax - but not physically. She cleared her throat and straightened herself up to her full height in a failing attempt to look enthusiastic.

"You look so beautiful, Miss Swann... er, Mrs. Norrington," the old woman said patronizingly, the crinkles on her face crinkling even more as her mouth turned up in a worn smile.

Elizabeth suppressed a girlish giggle as she realized that she had taken James' last name. _It's so se-_

"And Commodore Norrington; you look dashing," the woman continued, interrupting Elizabeth's thoughts.

"Thank you, Miss Duvalle," James said in his commanding-officer voice. The old woman wandered away.

Yet another couple approached, and Elizabeth groaned, loudly enough so that James could hear it, but not so loudly as to let the entire congregation know that her patience was wearing thin. James squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. She relaxed and put on a plastic smile. James nodded, discreetly, in approval, and the couple began to make conversation.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor," Elizabeth said, putting on her best face.

"Ah, James, so you've finally put your best foot forward and courted a woman!" Mr. Taylor said, obviously claiming to be a good friend of Norrington's, even though they had only met once or twice.

"Thankyou, Steve," James replied, trying to sound casual, and failing. Steve's wife frowned slightly.

"Miss Swann – Mrs. Norrington, I should say – congratulations, I always knew you'd find the right man!"

"Thankyou, Susan," Elizabeth mumbled, imitating James' feebly casual voice, in an attempt to make him smile. Her attempt did not fail: the corner of James' mouth twitched momentarily, as if he was hesitant. Once the couple was out of earshot, he started chuckling.

"Elizabeth, you are so-"

"Ah, James, Elizabeth! There you are!" Weatherby popped out of nowhere, his feather hat positively on the verge of falling off of his head: the man had been bobbing around vigorously, searching for the newlyweds, through a good many congratulatory shakes of the hand, which he had done with great impatience. "I've been looking for you two! Congratulations..." he paused to catch his breath, "and I couldn't have chosen any man better for you to marry, Elizabeth."

James turned red, embarrassed.

"Commodore, I know you'll take care of her... goodness knows you'll be parents in no time..." he lowered his voice, "though not yet... as you, uh, know."

James nodded, his face slowly returning to its natural color. Elizabeth was biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into uncontrollable laughter at the... reality of it all. She was only in her early twenties and yet married already: she half-expected someone to pinch her, shake her awake, and slap her face, ordering her to wake up.

But no one came, just James, who tapped her shoulder lightly and said, "Are you alright, Elizabeth? You seem... distant."

"I-" she snapped back to the present day, "-yes, I'm... I am just very excited at the reality of it all."

She turned to face him directly, struggling not to swoon at the sight of his piercing green eyes. "We are married."

James smiled. "Yes. We are."

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James gestured through the open doorway. Elizabeth followed his arm and stepped inside James' residence.

"If you'll follow me, I shall show you to your – my – our room," James stammered, already feeling embarrassed – in his own home, too. Elizabeth nodded and followed him, holding his arm.

He led her through the sitting room, where a painting of what Elizabeth recalled being of James' father hung on the wall. They passed through and came to the kitchen, where a butler was cleaning the top cupboard. He bowed to them and James just nodded, as if it was automatic, and led Elizabeth through to a smaller hallway, where three doors were placed, two on the left and one on the right.

James opened the door of the first room on the left. Elizabeth walked in to find two mattresses, placed on opposite walls, and two cupboards at the foot of each bed. One bed seemed more worn, and Elizabeth assumed it was James'. She turned to him.

"It's lovely," she said, not knowing what else she could add.

"I shall give you some privacy, then," he said, bowing. He could not contain the pink tinge that covered his face.

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you."

He closed the door, and Elizabeth was left alone with her disbelieving thoughts and new quarters.

So they would share a bedroom, but not a bed. Surprisingly, Elizabeth was not bothered by the situation. She did not think she could sleep next to someone, not yet.

Even if it _was_ James.

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Elizabeth lay under the covers, James lay under his, both thinking about the other. After a quick kiss goodnight, they had climbed awkwardly into their own beds and blown out their candles, resting their heads on their pillows and closing their eyes.

Yet neither could fall asleep. Elizabeth tried thinking about her future, where she might go later in life, thinking about what wonderful things she could do now that she was married. She also giggled silently as she repeated the words "Elizabeth Norrington", over and over. James started thinking back, before he had fallen for her, back when he was just a Lieutenant, she a young girl from England. And so, the silence was broken by a light chuckle from James' side of the room. Elizabeth took it for a cough – a very forceful one, too – and turned onto her side.

"Are you alright, James?" she asked softly, not knowing if he had even heard her.

He had. "I am fine... I was just recalling a certain time when you were just a young girl."

Elizabeth was curious. "Do tell me about it."

"I... well, it's a very long story..." he mumbled.

"It is still mid-evening," Elizabeth insisted. "Please, James, tell me the story."

"Very well." He turned onto his back, facing the ceiling, eyes looking far away. In the pale moonlight from the window, Elizabeth could see him smiling to no-one, lost in his thoughts, wondering how to begin.

"I was lieutenant at the time," he began, "and you and your father were being shipped from England. I was only twenty, you were about eleven or twelve." He paused. "You were singing a pirate song, and everyone just covered their ears, else they would ignore it completely."

He didn't know what to say next. It was a simple story, easy to recount, yet he could not choke out the words.

"Go on," Elizabeth pressed, sitting up and looking at James across the room.

"I was one of those that ignored it... but I ignored it so much that I did not notice you go down to the galley, just like everyone else ignored you." He paused, letting himself choke out a small laugh. "The cook was... surprised, to say the least. You had started banging away with the pots and pans to the song, as if they were drums. Your father was going mad, embarrassed and shocked at how you could so easily do something without feeling ashamed at everyone that was staring at you. But he may as well have scolded a brick wall; you just wandered off up the steps and forgot about everything. Your father was stricken. He said to me, 'I am telling you, Lieutenant, if you ever court a girl like that, good luck to you', and..." _how to explain it?_ He furrowed his brow.

"And?" Elizabeth said for him to go on. She was sitting on the edge of her bed now, considering standing up and walking over and sitting on his bed. But she stopped herself from doing something so forward, and pressed James to go on. "Please."

"I was... I found it amusing that I did end up courting a girl like you. I mean, I ended up courting _you._ I mean... the... the irony of the situation struck me as funny."

"I remember a time, James," Elizabeth said, thinking. "On that ship, when we had just entered Jamaican waters, I had dropped my doll and it had miraculously rolled into your cabin..." her voice trailed off.

"Ah... yes." James remembered that late afternoon very clearly; she had scurried into his room when he was asleep. On her way out, Elizabeth had run right into the door, having not heard it close behind her, and James had woken up with a start, brandishing his sword and cursing at the intruder, startled and irritated at having been woken up so abruptly. When he had finally lit the candle, Elizabeth had been cowering in a corner, looking bewildered. James hadn't spoken to her for a month after that.

James heard the bed creak as Elizabeth sat on the edge, next to James. She had lost against the raging debate in her head whether or not to go and sit with him, and there she was. In the moonlight, she could see that James had no shirt on. She blushed.

"Ah..." Maybe she shouldn't have moved. She had put him into an uncomfortable position by moving, and now she didn't know what to do. They sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

The bed creaked as James sat up. "You should be getting some sleep, I think, after today's hectic events," he said softly into her ear.

"I... yes, I should, thank you," she said, turning her head.

"Well... uh... good night."

She hugged him, forgetting about his lack of torso clothing, and he flinched. It was an odd feeling. He'd hugged her countless times, but each time, he'd had his shirt on. Bare skin was different. It was colder, warmer.

His jump of surprise made Elizabeth reel back, but by then he'd had his arms halfway around her shoulders, and she ended up rebounding against his embrace, right back onto him. The sudden impact, although slight, caused James to fall back, and before either one knew it, Elizabeth was lying on top of a shirtless James.

He began to sweat profusely.

"I-I'm sorry, I - I didn't mean to-" Elizabeth stammered, making to get off.

"No, I... I mean, it's... it's alright, I..." James mumbled.

They lay there in an endless stretch of awkward silence.

They were both feeling awkward, but far from uncomfortable. In fact, Elizabeth was beginning to feel sleepy. She wouldn't mind falling asleep right where she was...

_No! Father told me not to. _She willed herself to climb off of him, but he too was blinking sleepily.

_Climb off... go back to your own bed..._

_Go back. Go back. _

_Go back..._

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Will grinned. He was out of Cape Vergal, once and for all. And he even had a job. A blacksmith apprentice, thanks to the Lieutenant.

And the pirates. Yes, they were pirates, but if they hadn't turned up, the Navy in turn would not have turned up... and he would never have had the opportunity to go to Port Royal.

There was one downside, though; Mr. Brown was a lazy man, sleeping all the time, drunk. He was sober for long enough to teach Will the basics, then go off into his own little drunken world.

He still had the medallion, and Will spent his time wondering why the pirates would have risked their lives to get it. It was just another piece of treasure, what difference did one medallion make?

It didn't really matter; Will was out of Cape Vergal, and he would never go back.

That was enough.

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Elizabeth's eyes snapped open. She was lying on her right shoulder, facing across the room. Facing her own bed.

_Oh, no..._

She realized an arm was draped around her waist, and she was holding the hand of that arm.

The arm, of course, belonged to James Norrington.

Elizabeth, turning quietly on her spot, realized it was also a _shirtless_ James Norrington. Gasping softly, she looked down at her own body, and was relieved – to say the least – when she saw she had her night gown on. At least nothing had happened last night.

_Last night..._

Ah, yes. The reminiscing that led her to move next to him. Which led to falling asleep on top of James.

She tried wriggling out of his embrace, but he woke up at her movements. He started breathing heavily as he took in the fact that he was shirtless and had his arm around her waist. He blushed and stuttered, "Good... good morning."

_Dear God, what happened? _he wanted to yell.

"Good morning, James," she mumbled, getting out from under the blanket and walking back to her bed, blushing.

He started to sweat. "Did we... what did we... last night... your father, he said, not to, n-not to..."

She sat back down on her own bed, facing James, her voice unsteady.

"No, we didn't..." she said quietly, her face turning an even deeper shade of scarlet.

James just said, "Oh." _"Damn."_

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"'Damn.'_" Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah. _

_Okay, that laugh was too long. The A and H keys are nearly broken on my keyboard now. Ehm, anyway. Yes. There you have it, another chapter gone. In any case, the next chapter will be much more progressive in terms of plot, but won't be this long. This chapter took TWELVE PAGES, and, believe me, and my fingers are very sore. Um, I should also acknowledge this: _"The pen is mightier than the sword – except, of course, in sword fights."_ This quote is by... uh, I forgot his name... but it's not by me. So I didn't think it up. It was just funny, so I used it. Meheheh._

_Yes, for those of you that watch British sitcoms: I was making a... "cameo appearance" of Steve Taylor from "Coupling", a hilarious show that features Jack Davenport as – wa-hey! – Steve Taylor; his girlfriend's name is Susan, but they weren't married. In this fic, however, yes, they were married... _

_I will continue on making little "cameos" and whatnot of other Davenport characters... maybe even some Depp, Knightley and Bloom characters as well... If you request one, I'll be sure to try and fit it in! (Imagine: Sweeney Todd, James Norrington's personal barber. Haha.) I know, this is PotC fiction, but come on... we can't just concentrate on the one, can we? _

_Er, anyway, I believe that's all for now. Though I don't expect nor need it; please review if you have time! Thanks. A new chapter should appear on the site in about a week, give or take a few hours. By then, Christmas will be finished... so, I say to you all, six days in advance because I won't update before then:_

**Merry Christmas!**May you all be overcome with greed, and likewise, enjoy the festivities. (I'm joking about the greed; you know that, right?)

_-waves-_


	10. Going For Walks

_Oh noes! I am so, so very sorry for such a delayed update... my Christmas involved quite a lot of parties and I never had the chance to type much through the fatigue that followed. Anyway, here is another chapter and we progress plot-wise... but only a little. _

_This chapter is for frenchhornfreak..._

_Elizabeth meets Will, finally. NONONO! No, don't press the Back button on your browser! PLEASE!! Hear me out. There is NO Willabeth love in this story – not on Elizabeth's part, anyway – so don't you worry your head off. They just meet, exchange a few words... okay? No, I'm not playing favorites on _frenchhornfreak_'s part, I'm going to have a slightly Sparrabethical slant in a later chapter, for the sake of _englishfreckle_. I mean, they're tolerating an enemy ship story, for goodness sake! Give them some CREDIT! _

_Sorry, I couldn't help but carry on a bit. It's me, not you. _

_Moving on..._

_Davenport Actor reference for Chapter Nine: _

Peter Smith-Kingsley_, from _The Talented Mr. Ripley_ (which I don't own)._

_**Becki-ox**__: I'm sorry, I lied. James is not in trouble. Yet. _

_**DISCLAIMER:**__ I don't own "_Pirates of the Caribbean_"; read on, I'll shut up now..._

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It was mid-afternoon. It had only been thirty-seven hours ago that she had become Elizabeth Norrington, and now... she had already become a rebel in her new home. She had done the one and only thing her father specifically asked not to do, the night before last, her first night as a married woman. Well, technically, they had not done what he asked them not to, but instead just done the thing that could have made the unwanted thing take place. Even so, James had left for Fort Charles with his heart and mind soaking in guilt for the past two consecutive days. Elizabeth was left pondering the situation: tell her father and clear her conscience – and James', too – or pretend nothing ever happened?

_Nothing really did happen, though, _one part of her insisted.

_You still slept in the same bed, which means you disobeyed your father, and you must confess to him of your crime. It's only fair... _Elizabeth sighed. She needed James' opinion, and he was not there, not at that moment. _You can ask him later._

Elizabeth spent the day familiarizing herself with her new home: which cupboard held what, which room was where. Soon becoming bored of doing such an activity, she prepared to go for a walk, perhaps visit her father.

In her new room, she sat on the edge of James' bed, twisting the hair ribbon she held in her hands, nervous. It was just a simple walk through the town, a leisurely activity that was normal for her, yet she could not help but wonder what the citizens of Port Royal would say. The last thing she wanted was for another pompous group to approach her and start "constructively" criticizing her choice of a spouse, her wedding dress, her posture, and practically every single aspect of her life. She had put up with that kind of thing before, but now that she was married, it would give the women a lot more to start gossiping about. Gossip was the last thing she needed right then.

Nonetheless, she decided to take it head-on. Her first idea was to walk down, near the docks, take in the view of the Jamaican waters... but there were bound to be plenty of groups milling around the water's edge, exchanging stories and tea party invites – the last thing Elizabeth wanted was to be forcefully invited to one of those. Finally, she decided to walk through the more deserted streets to her old house, the one up on the hill, the house she grew up in - in Port Royal, anyway. Her father would be overjoyed to see her – if he was home.

_He will be, _she reassured herself. _Don't worry._

So, after a quick lunch, she set out to the streets.

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Will grunted as he hammered away, realizing he was just as bored in the smithy as he was at home. He hadn't had time to get out and see his new hometown through all the orders. What infuriated Will most was that Mr. Brown spent most of his time drunk, and nobody seemed to care. Will didn't want to protest because he wanted to sound grateful for at least another month. He didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. But he was bored, and he couldn't do anything about it. It annoyed him.

_All the more reason to get away, _Will's mind persisted.

He stopped hammering and leaned against the wall, thinking deeply. The order he was working on was not needed for another two weeks, when one of the Captains – Captain Smith-Kingsley, if Will remembered correctly – was to be promoted to Commodore. So he supposed the order could wait another day or so.

After settling his mind on that thought, he set out into the streets.

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James scribbled at the papers, his mind floating about some several thousand miles away. _To tell or not to tell?_ Weatherby would be infuriated if he ever found out about what had happened on their wedding night.

James shuddered. Just thinking about it that way made it sound perverted.

He could be honest and just tell Weatherby straight up – the governor was, indeed, only standing mere feet away from James, talking to one of his officers – and hope for the best. Then again, what someone didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

James was torn between _being_ honorable and _feeling_ honorable.

He had to make a quick decision: Weatherby had finished his conversation with the Commanding Officer and was heading toward James' desk.

_Lord, hear my prayer... _James moaned in his head. He faced directly toward the desk top, hoping Weatherby wouldn't see his face.

"Ah, Commodore! Thought I'd seen you!" the old man said, grinning from ear to ear and taking a seat in front of James' desk.

James groaned inwardly and stopped praying. Looking up and putting on a militaristic face, he addressed the governor.

"Good afternoon, sir," James said, sounding fairly formal.

"I suppose you are well?" Weatherby asked, looking around at his surroundings.

"Yes, sir," James said, lying through his teeth. He wasn't half well. He was torn!

"How are things going with Elizabeth?" Weatherby sounded a little more formal now. "I've not had the chance to visit you two at your home."

"They are going fine, sir," James answered, "and you are welcome to visit my residence whenever you please."

"Oh, well, thank you, but, I was actually going to talk to you about that..." he shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair, "I was planning on returning home to England for a month or so, and I was wondering if you didn't mind taking care of my house in my absence."

James briefly realized that he and Elizabeth taking care of the Governor's house was not really related to the topic of Weatherby visiting James' house. But, pushing the thought aside, he said clearly, "When are you leaving for England?"

Weatherby smiled.

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Elizabeth wandered the back alleys of Port Royal, alleys that her father would usually disallow her to enter – James would probably not let her either, but neither man was present, so Elizabeth deemed it reasonable to walk through the alleys.

She did not think she would run into anyone, but she did. Just a man, William if she remembered correctly. It was the man James and his men had found when they pursued after Sparrow and landed on Cape Vergal. She had never really met the man up close, never talked to him before.

She could say one thing, though – he was quite good-looking, though she would never say it out loud. She was married, for heaven's sake!

She literally ran into him – he had walked out of the smithy just as Elizabeth walked past, and he ran straight into her.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I was in a bit of a rush and-" he stopped when he realized who it was. The governor's daughter! He had run straight into the governor's daughter! For all Will knew, she could be a stuck-up, pompous woman who was over-sensitive about people touching her – even just accidentally. Backing away cautiously, not wanting to get in trouble, Will prepared to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. But Elizabeth beat him to it.

"It's alright, sir, I'm not hurt, you've nothing to be sorry for."

"I... oh, uh, well, great. I mean... that's good. I mean..." He bowed. "Lovely to meet you, Miss-?"

"Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington," Elizabeth introduced herself, suppressing a girlish giggle at using her new name formally for the first time.

"William Turner, ma'am," Will answered, wondering whether he should kiss her hand or reel back in shock. His fantasy back at Cape Vergal included a woman called Elizabeth! Was it fate, or just coincidence?

_She said Missus. She's married. _

"Pleasure," Elizabeth said, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry, but I must be going. Perhaps we can meet again in the future? I believe you've met my husband-" she stifled a giggle at 'my husband' "-and I think he would like to get to know you, personally, as a friend."

"I... it would be an honor, Mrs. Norrington," Will said, bowing.

"Very well. It's been lovely meeting you, Mr. Turner, but I'm afraid I must leave you now."

"Good day, Mrs. Norrington," Will said, managing not to choke on his words.

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_Another chapter, gone! Well, have fun. New chapter should be on soon! _

_Also... Happy New Year!_

_-waves-_


	11. Conversing In Silent Codes

_OH GOD. I left this so long it feels like abandonment. But I promise, I would never abandon such a story! It's just that, since I last updated, there have been many time-consuming activities to use up writing time. These include New Year's, my birthday, and a bit of a short-fallen war regarding a harmless joke – frenchhornfreak, you know what I'm talking about. Haha._

_Well, anyway, back on topic... time for the next installment of NonExistant! And I apologize that it's so short, it's not really worth the extra week I took in posting... but I'm just a little lagged down after Gabbly. Hahahaha. Enjoy._

_**DISCLAIMER (to the tune of **_**This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race**__Pirates ain't mine, it's a Dis!ney! fran!chise! Pirates ain't mine, it's a Dis!ney! fran!chise! Jack's a leadin' man, and the lies he weaves are, oh so intricate, oh so intricate...

_Sorry... I know you're not supposed to do songfics. But it's just a fun disclaimer. Blame Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz. I don't own FOB or Pirates. You get the point. On with the story..._

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She stood in front of her old home, wondering whether or not to start up the drive. There didn't seem to be any sign of life inside the house. Maybe her father wasn't there. Else he was taking a nap, reading, or talking to their butler. He could do that sort of thing for hours on end.

Elizabeth couldn't decide whether or not to walk up to the house, but she didn't have to make much of a choice. The galloping of approaching horses made her turn and when she saw who was in the carriage, she nearly lost her footing. It stopped at the gates, instead of going up the drive, so that James and the governor could escort her inside.

"Elizabeth," James said softly, climbing out of the carriage.

"James-"

"Ah, Commodore, do you mind helping an aged man escape this wooden contraption?" Weatherby called.

"Of course, sir."

Once Weatherby was safely out of the carriage, he led the way up the drive, James and Elizabeth walking hand-in-hand behind him.

"How did you get here?" James asked her, as they ascended toward the front door.

"I walked," she replied simply, sending a reassuring smile his way, to tell him it was alright, that she was unhurt.

"I hope you did not have to endure anything out of protocol on your walk," James said quietly, so that Weatherby would not hear. "You didn't bring an escort, did you?"

There was no need to lie. "No."

"Well, as long as you are safe. But I must insist you bring along an escort next time, you never know what might happen to you. But I must ask; I have been pondering it all day, are we to tell him of what we did a few nights ag-"

"Come inside," Weatherby said pleasantly, interrupting James' hushed whisper, gesturing into the open doorway.

"Thank you, Father," Elizabeth said, entering the house, James following shortly after.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the sofa in the sitting room. There were three simple pieces of furniture in the room; one sofa, one rocking chair and a side drawer, which Elizabeth knew held her mother's prized possessions.

James and Elizabeth sat beside one another, Weatherby on the rocking chair.

"I was just telling young James here," Weatherby began, "that I was going home to England for a month or so, and he agreed to looking after this house in my absence."

"Looking after the house?" Elizabeth echoed, hearing her echo echoing throughout the spacious, half-empty room they currently sat in.

"Yes," Weatherby said, "I hope you don't mind either, Elizabeth?"

"I was hoping you would be alright with it, it is your former house," James added, hoping she wasn't annoyed at him for accepting so quickly. And if she was angry, she certainly did not show it.

"Of course, I am fine with that," Elizabeth said, "but why return to England?"

"Well, I wanted a change of scenery. And I will not lie – I am going to visit your mother's grave, and perhaps see what our old home looks like now."

Elizabeth was speechless. James squeezed her hand gently, to wake her up.

"Oh! I, I mean – that's fine with me," Elizabeth said quickly.

"Excellent, excellent!" Weatherby cried, the excitement in his voice rather obvious. "But seeing as that's all agreed on, you can't go just yet! How are you going with your new home, Elizabeth? You've stuck to protocol, I hope? Behaved appropriately?"

James exchanged a look with Elizabeth. It was clear as to what the look said: _Shall we tell him what we did?_

"Of course, Father," Elizabeth said, smiling.

"She is telling the truth, sir," James added, a little too quickly, but Weatherby was just nodding in approval.

"Quick to back her up," Weatherby said approvingly, "so much like your father. I knew him well when I was much younger. He was an inquisitive young man I must say. Lawrence did anything to help his loved ones. And I can see that this feature has been passed onto you, as well, James."

"Thank you, sir," James said politely, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blushing. He glanced at Elizabeth again. _Tell him or not?_

Elizabeth blinked back at him to say, _I've no idea._

James licked his lip subtly, to say, _I think it's now or never._

"Well, it's not a surprise, really," Weatherby was saying. "You've always been a man of manners, James, and it's no wonder Elizabeth chose you as a life partner!"

Elizabeth touched James' hand slightly, to indicate that she thought _We should tell him._

James shifted slightly on his spot, a sign to Elizabeth: _Now. Tell him now._

"You flatter me, sir," James said, putting on his best smile.

"Oh, don't be so modest, Commodore, there really is no nee-"

"Father, we must tell you something," Elizabeth interrupted. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it really is quite urgent."

Weatherby sent a questioning look toward James. "Please, go on."

"We-" James stammered.

"We went against your orders, father," Elizabeth said boldly.

Weatherby's features creased, confused.

"We... slept in the same bed," James explained, his wife's confidence tying in with his own.

"But we did not do anything else," Elizabeth added, as Weatherby had just paled.

Weatherby did not speak.

James took Elizabeth's hand subtly, so that she knew he was there, regardless of what Weatherby said.

"We're sorry," James added lamely, after a few moments of unbearable silence.

Weatherby opened his mouth to speak.


	12. Cast Off On A Concorde

_Haha. I love cliffies. Well, only when they're not directed at me. Muahahaha. And I'm sorry to leave you all hanging for a week longer than my usual amount of time in between posts, but I had to go somewhere for twelve days – where I went is not important; all I know is, I'm back now, and posting a new chapter... _

_OK. Back on topic. Yes. We have some pirate history going on here... a ship called the _Concorde_ is obviously used in this chapter (see the chapter title.) The_ Concorde_ is the ship that Pirate Blackbeard's cabin boy came from. The boy is called Louis Arot. Haha. I know pirate history! Oh wow. _

**-.-**

_Anyway. Where were we? Ah yes, the story. How Weatherby reacts. And incessant babbling on James' part. And of course, Jack and Barbossa on... OMG! The _Concorde

_Yes. No more to say. Except that __**I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. **_

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Weatherby opened his mouth to speak, but James interrupted him first.

"We're sorry, sir. And I must insist on the fact that it was not Elizabeth's fault. I started telling her stories, and then she-"

"Yes, yes, quite enough," Weatherby said, his face unfathomable. "I must say I'm a little disappointed in both of you..."

The couple clutched each other's hand, holding their breaths, waiting for what was about to come.

"...but, really, can I blame you two? Remember that nobody's perfect; you two are so in love I'd swear you're falling over each other when you're alone!"

James' hand tightened considerably around Elizabeth's. He turned pink, Elizabeth paled, and Weatherby blinked, realizing what he had just said. The three sat in very uncomfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity, thoughts rushing through their heads.

Weatherby was thinking, _Why do you meddle with these poor people?_

Elizabeth was thinking, _Oh help, father, why are you like this?_

And James was thinking, _Damn it all, you've ruined it now, James, why, why, why?_

James cleared his throat, unsure, but continuing on anyway. "Well, I suppose it is getting rather late... oh, look at the time! Elizabeth, I suggest we begin our journey home, we wouldn't want to be home late – the sun is setting already. Governor, I do apologize, but we must be leaving you now I'm afraid, once the last stroke of daylight disappears over the horizon the off-heads in town start milling around and I would hate for Elizabeth to have to run into them, it would be most inappropriate, and of course she must have enough hours of sleep in the day, goodness knows what kind of things she would encounter underneath a sleep deprived brain, so I do believe we must be going right now, and-"

"James," Elizabeth said quietly, over James' babbling.

"-Elizabeth and I really need rest, after all I must leave early to get to the Fort and Elizabeth usually enjoys the early morning dew, so if we are to stick to schedule then we must really be leaving now-"

"James," Elizabeth repeated, louder this time.

"-as well as the fact that the horses on the carriage need to sleep early, not much later from now actually, and-"

"_James._" Elizabeth said clearly.

James flinched, startled. "Y-yes?"

"I think we should go, Father," she said, not really answering James.

"Oh, by all means! You wouldn't want to miss the morning dew..." he chuckled and shook his head. "James, you never fail to amuse me."

"I... thank you, sir," he muttered, looking away. _Close your mouth, James. Now._

Elizabeth stood up and took James' hand, tugging at it slightly, to tell him that they should hurry up. He nodded, and stood up next to her, peering down at the Governor. "Well, good day," he managed to utter, before following Elizabeth's grasp and walking out of the old house. As soon as they were inside the carriage, as all noises made would be muffled by the loud horses' hooves, Elizabeth began to laugh.

"James, honestly, did you think he would stop us from ever seeing each other again? Lord knows what he might have done had you said anything more. Incessant babbling was the last thing I thought you'd do..." she shook her head, still chuckling.

"Yes, well..." he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"You had a ridiculous amount of excuses - 'off-heads'; honestly..." she rested her head on his shoulder. "I suppose, with all this clouding around in his head, you won't be able to face him for a week at least?"

She felt him swallow nervously, as if he was wondering how to react. "I think you're right."

"I know you too well," she said quietly, closing her eyes.

_But not well enough..._

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"Bah! To blazes with this!" Barbossa growled, stalking off below decks.

"Finally," Jack muttered, taking hold of the wheel.

"So... our heading, cap'n?" Gibbs mumbled, climbing cautiously up the stairs. The heady argument between the captain and his first mate had just ended – for now. Gibbs knew Jack too well to know that it was not the end of the debate – more than likely it had just started. But for now, it seemed, Jack had prevailed, and so they were off to Tortuga to find one William Turner.

"Our heading, Mr. Gibbs, also means trouble, as well as the uncertainty of said trouble's cause, which may very well affect the likeliness of succeeding at former heading's trouble. Though it may very well not be the case..."

Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Port Royal, sir?"

"What do you think, Joshamee? You think we're heading to Cape Verde? Maybe dropping off in the outer region of the Atlantic? _No. _If we need William Turner, whom happens to be in Port Royal, then we must head toward Port Royal."

"Aye sir," Gibbs answered, not making head or tail of Jack's speech, but agreeing nonetheless. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, wondering whether or not to start shouting orders, because Jack looked like he was about to say something else. Jack's mouth was half open, but his face was twisted in hesitation.

"...sir?" Gibbs asked steadily, watching his captain gaze off ahead.

"Joshamee, get Hector," Jack said, barely audible.

"Barbo- get Barbossa?"

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack said clearly, turning to him, "when I say something, it is your duty to follow it, because I am ranked as captain and you as second mate, so this ranking leads to my leading and your following. If you do not do said following one might say something to tell you to follow it or face the whip named after a certain little beastie, with eight extra tails."

Gibbs blinked, slowly understanding what Jack meant. "Aye, sir." If Jack Sparrow wanted Hector Barbossa, else Gibbs received a flogging, then something was wrong. Well, in Gibbs' opinion, nothing had gone right ever since they'd stolen this merchant ship. It hadn't seemed like a big deal to anybody, but it was piracy, and they were pirates. So, in Jack's opinion, it seemed very fitting to just "commandeer" another ship out of Tortuga. Gibbs had been posing as a bartender in the more run-down parts of Port Royal, and once he'd heard about the news, he had chased off after the _Concorde –_ Jack's current vessel – and brought the few crewmembers he could find, to escape with Jack and Barbossa. For Gibbs, he had a feeling about the merchant vessel, as if it had some sort of unlucky history that would bring bad luck to his friend's pirate crew.

But, really, who was he to complain? He was just second mate.

Gibbs reached the cabin door. He raised a fist to knock, but before his knuckles hit the wood, the door flung itself open and revealed a smug-looking first mate by the name of Hector Barbossa.

"Did Jack need me fer some reason?" Barbossa leered.

"Aye, sir – he told me to-"

"Get up there, ye, I heard 'im too – I'm not the only one with a loud voice 'round here..."

"Aye, sir..."

Barbossa clomped up the stairs. "Need me help, do ye Jack?" He asked haughtily, his blackened teeth showing their full proximity.

"We are going to Port Royal, Mr. Barbossa, and I would like you to tell me this: are you going to be in favor of this opinion, or will you rebel?"

The arrogant gait vanished immediately. "Fine then, ye feckless ingrate..." he stalked off the poop deck, just as he had moments earlier.

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack said, "set a course for Port Royal, a general-" He opened his compass, "-that way direction."

"Aye, cap'n," Gibbs said, taking the wheel. Jack stumbled down the stairs and disappeared below decks.

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_I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! IT'S TOO SHORT! I'M SO SORRY! –runs away-_


	13. The Only Goodbye

_Words cannot begin to describe how dreadfully sorry I am for this hugely long update, so I won't waste any more of your time. __Chapter twelve of NonExistant. Look forward to some fluff, then some angst, and then some fluffy angst. _

_T__he chapter is a little more lengthy than usual, although it may be because I'm using 125 zoom instead of 90... at any rate, a little longer than usual, and I hope you enjoy._

_**I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean.**__OK. Shutting up now…_

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Will walked along the sand, wondering why the beach wasn't some sort of resting place for Port Royal. It was a long stretch of sand, just through a short forest that separated the back of Port Royal from the ocean.

It was late afternoon setting into early evening. Will sat down, to watch the waves hit the sand. He had gotten bored with smithing, so he'd practiced fencing by himself for a few hours. He thought he had taken up a lot of time by practicing, but he was wrong – it ended up with him whacking his elbow against the wall and rolling on the ground, holding his arm, wincing in pain. He now had a large bruise on his right forearm and was letting the pain subside.

Thinking that a walk would perk him up, Will had set off through town and ended up at the edge of the forest. Making his way through it, hoping to find some form of excitement, Will had stumbled upon a beach. It looked about half a mile long and the horizon was a clear blue line, which turned into a flamboyant pink and orange sunset. Will would have stayed there forever, if he didn't have a job to do.

Will knew that the inn he was staying at would not question his absence, so, shrugging off any doubt, he lay back onto the sand and closed his eyes.

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"Elizabeth," James burst into his house, startling a few maids and the doorman.

"Elizabeth – I have something important to tell you!" James cried, rushing into sitting room, not caring for his less than formal use of words.

Elizabeth flinched in surprise as James came rushing in. She dropped her book onto her lap, a startled expression etched on her face. "James, what's wrong?"

James blushed as he realized how abrupt his entrance was. Was he really that frantic?

_Yes – yes, you are. You have to leave immediately…__ tell her, quickly._

But James seemed to have lost his voice. Or it was running away from him, at the very least. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. How was he to say it? "I… the boy… pirates… rescue…" he mumbled, finding his breath.

Elizabeth placed the book onto the couch and patted down her dress. She stood up and stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, then tell me what's wrong," she coaxed, rubbing his shoulder gently, feeling them rise and fall as James breathed heavily.

"It's Sparrow… he took Turner… we have to rescue him, and we set off in a few minutes… I had to tell you before I left – I didn't want to leave without… without seeing you first." It was all he could say. His face was composed and calm now, but Elizabeth could see in his eyes that he did not want to leave her so abruptly. There was a masked pain in his face that said he never wanted to leave her, but he knew he was duty bound.

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "You have to go," she said softly. She took his hand a squeezed it reassuringly. Then she furrowed her brow. "How long will the rescue take?"

James bit his lip. "I… I don't know. It could be months before I see you again."

Elizabeth felt the back of her eyes prickle, but she held back her tears and embraced James for a moment. She felt him sigh. Elizabeth rested her head in the crook of his neck for a fleeting moment, soaking in his presence, wishing she could freeze time and stay in James' embrace forever.

But he had to go.

"Have a safe journey," she whispered into his ear. A tear rolled down her cheek.

He kissed her ear, "I will return to you."

She pulled away from him, holding his hands. James blinked quickly, to hide the tears that were blurring his vision.

After staring into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, he breathed quietly, "I love you." Parting his hands from hers, he dashed out of the house. Elizabeth watched through the sitting room window as James ran down the drive and disappeared down the street. Tears fell from her eyes as he and the sun vanished from her sight.

Would he come back? Would they ever see each other again? Pirates were a loathsome and unpredictable lot – Elizabeth had no idea what could happen. No-one could ever know.

It could be weeks. Months. Maybe a year, before she would be able to gaze into James' soft green eyes, before she would embrace him, before she would be able to press her lips against his and never feel unsafe again.

But without him, just one day felt like forever.

"I love you too, James."

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"_What_ do you want from me?!" Will roared from his cell.

"Yer blood," Barbossa answered simply. "Yer father owed it to us, but he went overboard in a fierce storm, an' yer the only trace of 'im left for us to take."

"And, in turn of obtaining said blood, we will also conk you out," Jack continued for Barbossa. "You were a first-class eunuch anyway, weren't you? No strumpet, no... infatuation? Female or male, with the former being the less likely?"

Will aimed a punch through the bars, but they were too narrow. The iron clanged loudly at the impact. Will pulled his hand back and hissed in pain, shaking his hand wildly to ease the throbbing.

"I knew it!" Jack cried gleefully. "A weak eunuch! Nothin' more! I knew I was right! Yer father didn't do very well in raisin' ya, did he?"

"My father was a merchant sailor," Will growled, "how did you know him? What's all this about a blood debt?"

Barbossa and Jack laughed at him through the bars. "Merchant sailor? Who told you that, boy?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "I know it."

Jack and Barbossa slapped their knees, ridden with mirth.

"Merchant sailor!" Jack exclaimed, laughing giddily. "Merchant sailor! Bootstrap Bill, a merchant sailor... boy, for a eunuch, you're pretty funny. Yer old man was a pirate, a bloody scallywag. And a good one too."

"Shut up!" Will yelled, pounding his fists against the cell bars, gritting his teeth and glaring angrily at Jack. "You're both feckless lowlifes!"

"Aye," Barbossa laughed. "And we're proud o' it!"

Jack grinned evilly at Barbossa, then Will. "Let's be gentlemen an' leave 'im be."

"Aye, let's," Barbossa agreed, leading the way up the stairs.

"Come back here and apologize! My father was NOT a pirate!"

All he got was a laugh in reply. He stared at the space where Jack had been, breathing heavily and angrily, balling his hands into fists and punching the air in frustration. He didn't watch where he was going and ended up punching the cell bars again. Sucking his knuckles, Will sank to the floor.

_Pirate? _He never would have thought it, not in his wildest nightmares. He'd sworn an oath to never communicate or associate with pirates, all for his father. But now... He laughed like a maniac at the irony. What was left for him in life anyway? No real home, no guardian, no friends, nothing to live for. Maybe these pirates were doing him a favour by killing him.

A small part of his mind was telling him not to think like that. To stay sane, to know there was everything out there for him. But that part of his mind was slowly dying away, covered by negative emotions. He didn't want to hate his father, but all that time, without him knowing it, he had. He hated his father and hated himself for doing so.

_Hate. Hate. Hate._

He hated the pirates for kidnapping him.

He hated his mother for not following him.

He hated his father for being a pirate.

He hated the Commodore for taking Elizabeth.

He hated the blacksmith for being a slob.

He hated Jack Sparrow for calling him names.

He hated Barbossa for laughing in his face.

And he hated himself for being so hateful.

_Hate. Hate. Hate._

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James wiped his eyes with his arm. His eyes were puffy and red, but really, what did it matter? It was the first time he was to leave someone behind for his duty, and most of the other officers knew what it felt like. He could only hope they'd be understanding.

"Sir?" Groves approached him from behind. James flinched in surprise, but turned at straightened his posture – he had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We're ready to set sail, sir – if you'd step onboard, we'll be underway."

"Uh… of, of course," James nodded, making his way across the gangplank, with Groves following closely behind him.

As the two men stood on the starboard deck, watching the water, Groves noticed the dark stain on James' sleeve.

"Sir, are you hurt?" he asked, alarmed.

James, who had been watching the water and avoiding eye contact to hide his tears, looked up and blinked rapidly at Groves. "Can you please elaborate, Lieutenant?"

"Your coat sleeve, sir – there's a dark spot, did you cut yourself?… the splotch is very large."

James blushed, realizing it was his tear stain. "I… I, uh, I…"

"Do you need the aid supplies?" Groves pressed.

"No! No, I'll be fine, it's just a – a te… tea stain," James said lamely. "I was drinking tea. And I spilled some of it. It was clumsy of me – I apologize for being out of uniform…"

Groves nodded understandingly. "Leaving a loved one is always hard for any man," he said, and left the Commodore to his thoughts.

So they all knew. _Well, that's just _dandy,_ isn't it? _

James snorted derisively, halfway up for smacking himself in the forehead. But he restrained himself and raised his eyes, darting them to the right.

Port Royal's shoreline was still visible, but rapidly disappearing in the darkening night. From his post, James thought he could see the house at the bottom of the hill, the front door of that house, and the woman that now stood there, the tears on her face dripping delicately onto her lap as she watched her husband disappear out to sea.


	14. Sheets Soaked In Tears

_Sorry about the month-long update. RL has been kinda crappy to me lately. Anyway. Back to the story, aye?_

_This chapter consists of romangst. No Jack, no Hector, no Will. Just James and Elizabeth. Dun dun dun._

_**I don't own anyone or anything you recognize here. Not even Elizabeth's pillow.**_

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Elizabeth smiled, curled up against her husband. He was asleep, his heartbeat slow and steady, echoing in Elizabeth's ears – the rhythm of life.

He shifted in his sleep and pulled Elizabeth closer to him. She rested her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around his bare shoulders, keeping warm. She never wanted to move away.

It was a moment of contentment. Both lost in dreams and thoughts, one about the other, no dread, no worry in their carefree lives.

James rolled onto his back, taking Elizabeth with him and landing on top of her. Elizabeth grinned, but after a few moments she began to lose air. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, her hands struggling to wake him. He fell back and landed onto the floor with a sickening thud-

Her eyes snapped open. James was not there.

She leaned over the edge of her bed. Realizing that the reality was just a heavy pillow, she threw her face into her hands and wept.

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James gripped the wheel tightly. He was getting sick of this mission. Why was Turner such a target? And how could he have been taken without warning?

He sighed. If it weren't for the pirates, he wouldn't be here. He'd have been in Port Royal with Elizabeth.

He missed her terribly. Every waking moment – 'rubbish', he though spitefully– _every_ moment without her was death frozen over. He'd promised himself not to take up any sort of sea venture for at least a month, yet here he was on a (mandatory? It was a good question.) on a rescue mission for Turner, the man that had been the cause of his last mission.

James found himself disliking this man.

A lot.

"All right there sir?" Gillette asked a tad mockingly as James' knuckles turned white.

"It is not yet your shift, Lieutenant," James more or less answered. He could almost see Gillette smirking.

"You look unwell, sir."

James gritted his teeth and lowered his voice. "If you were not a close friend, Andrew, I'd have you sent back to port..."

"But..." Gillette prodded.

James narrowed his eyes at the sun now hanging in the sky above. "Turner seems to have brought about a little more than just trouble, and it bothers me that one man could be so damned anno-"

The sharp snap of wood interrupted him. Both shifted their sights toward the main mast, where the sound had come from, and sighed in relief. The sails had flapped against the wood and resounded with the snap.

"...just be so troublesome, I suppose," James mumbled, shaken by the interruption and reverting his concentration on the wheel.

The wheel. _Smooth and elegant wood, finely carved, _he mustered all thoughts on admiring the work. He ran his fingers over the smooth and dented skin-

_Wood, James._ He ran his hands over the curved edges of the ship's wheel, her dainty posture-

_Wood, man! _He sighed heavily and blinked, struggling to think about just the one thing in front of him right there. The wood of the ship, almost sparkling – sparkling like the waves of the ocean.

The ocean, untamed, boisterous, beautiful, laughing as he splashed her lightly, not caring about her soaked dress-

James couldn't snap out of it. Anything he tried would lead back to Elizabeth. Why, even the bloody Lieutenant reminded him of her – the cuff links on his coat reminded him of the time she'd tugged at his own, a mere four foot tall child, asking question after question on everything about the ship...

God, he missed her.

Finally giving up, he turned on his heel, barked for the nearest officer to man the helm, and retreated to his cabin to weep.

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Elizabeth stared at her tea, its murky froth swimming in a pure white cup. She looked idle, but inside, she was willing herself not to cry. It was difficult; nothing seemed right without his presence.

_Tea. Water..._

Water. She swished the liquid in the cup, the minute waves killing themselves on the china mug, like ocean waves on a cliff face. A horrific but possible situation, and the waters of the Atlantic were unpredictable. Who knew if James was even alive?

Storms at sea, worse than the ones in her head. They were fearsome, unimaginable to those without experience. She had no experience. She had no idea.

_Is he still alive? _She gripped the mug tightly in her right hand, clenching her left fist onto her lap, fighting down the tears that threatened to fall. They were there, just behind her eyes, like the death of her beloved. Would it come soon? Or was it yet to come?

The metaphors didn't help.

A tearstain formed on her nightgown.

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James moaned in his sleep, his pillow wet, his hair a mangled wreck, his sheets twisted. He could not sleep. It was useless trying, nothing would help.

It was a long night for James; every possible thing that could have happened to Elizabeth ran past his mind, and with each new worry came double the amount of negative thoughts. He tried every possible way to get his mind off her for just one minute, alas he could not – anything and everything reminded him of her.

Many leagues away, his wife sat on the edge of his bed, the clock chiming twice a mere squeak in her thoughts. It was a long, tiresome stretch of worry and restlessness for Elizabeth, her eyes glazed over, staring at the unmade bed before her.

It was daunting to think that the man, the very man that had slept in the bed she now sat upon, was many hundreds of miles away from her. Miles away from the place he once stood. Miles away from land.

Away from her.

She cried herself to sleep.


	15. Gone

_Sorry about the really long time between updates again, everyone. RL just isn't treating me like it used to. Which is also the reason why it's kind of short too.  
_

_Short hint for this chapter: Elizabeth's presence, and lack thereof._

**I don't own Norrington (sniff), or Elizabeth, or Gillette, or Jack, or Barbossa... etc. They belong to the Mouse. Not the one in the Opera House – the one with the funny gloves and pants.**

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"No quarter," James warned.

"NO QUARTER!" the officer shouted, amidst the chaos. "Take your stations, men, prepare yourselves!"

James stiffened. He wasn't looking forward to the battle at all. He was not prepared. Now that he was in his status, he would never be ready for a battle at sea.

_Elizabeth, _he bemoaned in his head. _I'll never see her again..._

A loud noise was heard as the pirates prepared to board. Sparrow must have ordered them to slow down; the _Interceptor _had caught up easily to the _Concorde _and now both ships were parallel. It was only a matter of time before the first cannon would be shot. Only a matter of time before the world would end. Only a matter of time where he would be a mere memory, a loss...

The sound of men screaming and roaring in enthusiasm was enough to turn James' stomach over. He feared it was the last sound he would hear on this earth. The scream of a bloodthirsty scoundrel would be his last memory, and not Elizabeth's tender face. It was a daunting task that lay ahead, but terms had come to their worst. There was no going back now.

_The face of death must be right in front of me..._

James glanced up to see Sparrow's pirate flag hoisted up onto the mainmast and snorted. There it was. The grinning skull and crossed swords. The dirty flag seemed to sneer at him; mocking and taunting and calling him a coward. Several shots rang out at once, snapping James out of his brooding and onto the battle. _Do it, man. Do it._

_For her._

Raising his sword gallantly, he charged toward the mass of men.

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Jack grinned. If the Navy wanted a fight, then a fight they'd receive.

_Or not..._

He was going to win anyway, his men were immortal. May as well give the British Crown a bit of dignity. And of course take it away later on. Nudging Barbossa in the ribs, hard, he winked and twirled his wrist.

"Yer a crazy fool," Hector began, but Jack cut in.

"What've we got to lose? We've got the strength, no fear fer the inferior cells and swords and such." Jack waved his hand around. "You don't know if they're going ter give up, and if they don't, they're going to exhaust 'emselves. The bellies of those wigged beasts aren't bellies that we're gunna enter anytime soon."

Shrugging carelessly, Barbossa reached into his coat pocket and revealed a startlingly white handkerchief.

Jack smirked. "Not what I was expecting. Guess it should work."

Barbossa threw the small sheet into the midst of the battle, roaring at the top of his voice. No words, just a roar.

It seemed that every man froze in his spot at that precise moment, the ringing of swords now faint, the shouts dead, all movement a pause. Every eye was on the white material fluttering above their heads, like an angel sent to reign. A curious sight, but a triumphant one too. Only one man scuffled on deck, his boots resounding on the wood, then silence.

The battle ended immediately as the Navy erupted in cheers. The pirate crew dropped their swords, ignoring the officers' smug grins and half-confused faces at the abrupt surrender. They did not question it, however, just led the scuffled men into the brig and locked the doors, shouting in celebration whenever possible. James, however, was not celebrating. He was puzzled. Pirates never gave up that easily. The fight had not even been on for a quarter hour; their Captain had surrendered anyway and now sat languidly in his cell.

He furrowed his brow, dropping his sword unceremoniously onto the deck beside him and leaning on the stern rail, his mind wandering, his chest heaving. There was no logic to such an abrupt surrender – unless these pirates were suicidal... and where had the first mate run off to? Was Elizabeth going well? She could be falling over a rock and injuring herself at that moment, and he wouldn't have known. He couldn't know. He wanted to know. It was sickening. The Turner boy had been taken off to the guests' cabin and had been locked inside, what if he got out? Would he just cause more trouble?

Gillette, oblivious to James' doubts, came up from behind and clapped him on the back. James, startled, lost his balance and winded himself on the railing, flailing forward, a hoarse cry escaping from his throat. Bending over, gripping his stomach, he grabbed the rail for support and raised his eyes to Gillette's expectantly.

"Uh... apologies, sir," Andrew mumbled, making to walk away. James stopped him.

"It's... alright..." he gasped, struggling to breathe normally.

"It's... I... you looked... are you... You looked peaky, sir," Gillette managed.

"I- Yes," James answered vaguely, retrieving his sword from the deck and sheathing it. "I do not understand. They – Sparrow – they surrendered so quickly..."

Andrew did not seem to care. If he did, he did not show it.

"Perhaps they were tired," he supplied unhelpfully.

Nodding tiredly, James waved him off to withdraw himself into his cabin.

Once inside, he slammed the door with unnecessary force and, throwing his hat and wig across the room, collapsed face-first onto his cot. He kept his eyes closed, kicking off his boots and throwing off his coats until he was down to his breeches. Throwing the sheets over himself, his short hair matted with sweat, he drifted off into a restless sleep.

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Barbossa shifted uncomfortably. Barrels were cramped places. Having sat there for at least three hours was making his back a mite sore. Maybe he could take off the old hat for a while. The feather was irritating his nose. The movement of his arm thrusting the hat outwards sent his barrel rolling. He was soon tumbling across the hold as the ship jolted to and fro, presumably from high winds. As Barbossa passed a heavy, unmoving shelf, he nimbly grabbed it with all his strength and hoisted himself out of the barrel, which rolled away.

"Blasted thing," he grunted, as a cannonball thumped his foot. Limping up the stairs, he sneaked past the guards on deck and slunk away, pistol in hand.

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James opened his eyes groggily as the door to his cabin creaked open.

"Who goes there?" James sat up, blinking away the sleep.

The shadow limped forward, its arm raised aloft, holding a-

A shot rang out, James' limp figure falling back onto the bed.


	16. Sleepless Nights

**PLEASE READ MY A/N BEFORE PROCEEDING.**

_This is not the full chapter, OK. It's just that I've left it for too long and wanted to update, even if it is very, very short, and settle the score of the previous cliffie. I will post the other half of this chapter, or maybe a combination of the other half of this chapter and the next, but whatever – I didn't want to abandon this._

**Pirates**__**isn't mine.**

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Elizabeth screamed as she tumbled down into the hungry darkness, the cave never to end; her shouts echoing silently along the walls of anger. Walls of regret, the walls that held her with and against her will, walls that never crumbled, walls that cried with her for the name of James Norrington.

She was running through the darkness, running and crying and screaming for comfort - the comfort that lay in its own raging darkness, miles away, rocking hoarsely on the Atlantic, its own pleadings echoing on the other end of the cave... echoing through the endless walls, dying. The walls were closing in, a pistol shot resounding against her cries; ringing in her ears like bells tolling at his funeral, the sharp sea breeze whipping through the darkness, its bitter, salubrious feel stinging on her suffering -

She woke up crying.

He needed her. She needed him.

But they were alone. Alone together, far apart, both in the same boat, miles away from each other.

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Barbossa laughed manically as Gillette shoved him into the brig.

"Sit down and shut up, you filthy bag of scum," Jack snapped from his cell, leaning idly on the wall.

"Ye don't say," Barbossa shot back, making a face at Gillette's retreating back. "I'll keep me trap shut if you do."

Jack raised a brow and shrugged, adjusting his hat, which had a small patch on it where Jack had 'fixed' the hole. "You do that."

He shifted boredly, scratching his beard. "So who'd ya shoot?"

Barbossa shrugged carelessly. "The captain. He stabbed me back, and that bastard of an officer shot me leg, but tha's it. Just a scare."

Jack leaned earnestly on his cell bars, facing Barbossa. "Didja kill 'im?"

Barbossa just shrugged. "Nah."

"Really."

"Couldn't be bothered to shoot twice."

"Where'd ye hit then? The floor?"

Barbossa laughed dryly. "You feckless ingrate."

Jack grinned in reply.

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James sat, legs crossed on the sheets, a bandage wrapped around his arm. He was numb. He couldn't move. He couldn't blink, couldn't look away from the same piece of wood on the floor, couldn't bear to think about what Fate had done to him. He didn't want to. The pain in his arm was only a bitter reminder, a tiny grain of sand in a beach of misery. It was an acrid sense to the shock that had just befallen him – _what if the pirate had been a better shot?_

_But he __hadn't. _

James lived. His arm had a deep bullet wound, his mind had a deeper wound of loss – almost – and both pained as much as the other. His head was pounding. He could have been killed, just hours ago, but there he was. There to live. There to breathe. There… there to look into Elizabeth's eyes and wipe away the tears, protect from the dangers, pursue the love…

The world was a cruel place, James knew, and it wasn't any surprise that it had treated him no different to what it did everyone else. Truly, he had been expecting something of the sort, but never prepared himself for it. It was still a long way back the Port Royal – perhaps he would be fully healed by then, perhaps he could lie to Elizabeth and tell her he was uninjured?

No. He could never lie to her. He knew she was just as worried about him as he was her, and worry is never vain – he knew it. She would know something was wrong, she would know immediately. She had that power over him, the power to know him.

Even there? Did she know what it was like, what he felt like, all the way out in the Atlantic?

He knows the answer, and he weeps.


	17. In His Arms

Pirates_ is not mine and the character reference in this is way, way too easy. That is all. _

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Two Months Later

"You've been called to the docks, milady," the butler said from the doorway.

Elizabeth lifted her head. Her face was weary and pale, her cheeks sunken and eyes baggy. She was drained of her usual light, her fire had dimmed, and she had been quiet for over a month. There had been no word of James, and Elizabeth had given up hope a while ago. At the announcement, her heartrending expression changed. Hope swelled in her throat, her heart leaping.

"May I ask whom is summoning me?" Elizabeth asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Your husband, milady," the butler answered, sounding somewhat exasperated.

Elizabeth was already rushing to make herself look decent for the public, and after running a brush through her hair, she was half-sprinting down the stairs. The doorman bowed to her as she left, but Elizabeth took no notice. Hurrying herself into the carriage, her mind filled with excitement and anxiety.

Had he changed? Would he act differently after being out at sea for so long? Though it was deemed inappropriate, Elizabeth stuck her head out of the carriage window. They were almost there, she knew, and she almost shouted for the horses to pick up the pace. Holding herself back, she sat back down and wrung her hands, both nervous and keen. Her handkerchief crumpled in her grip as she twisted it, twiddling her thumbs together and wiping her brow.

The moment the carriage jerked to a stop, Elizabeth found herself on her feet, almost hitting her head on the carriage ceiling. She could not make herself sit back down, could not restrain the impetuous feeling running through her.

_James._

The carriage door opened behind her.

"We have arrived, madam," the driver intoned.

"Yes, yes, thankyou," Elizabeth said in a rush, almost jumping out of the carriage. She handed him four coins instead of the usual two, but she took no notice. The driver gave her a smirk and, pocketing his extra pay, bowed to help her. Lowering herself onto the wooden ground, she looked around furtively, pretending to brush off her clothes.

There, even from fifty paces, Elizabeth could see his green eyes lighten, his rare, boyish grin spread across his face. James, too, looked fatigued and colourless, eyes tired, but now joyful. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, tears running down her face, face buried in his shoulder. He said nothing, did nothing but hold her close to him, clutched her body to his own, murmured meaningless words into her ear as she sobbed. She splayed her hands across his back, hugging him tighter as her tears began to fade.

_James is__ back. _

He kissed her ear gently, reassuringly, whispering that he loved her and other words, insignificant to the way he felt inside. Inside… inside, his heart wanted to kiss Elizabeth senseless, to ignore his awareness of propriety and run his hands through her hair, to grab her hand and run with her along the road while laughing like a young child, wild and carefree.

Instead, he pulled away slightly and smiled at Elizabeth. He raised his hand and wiped her teary cheeks with his thumb, never taking his eyes away from her. She was smiling with her eyes, smiling at him; nothing could describe his relief at her safety, his relief at the fire that had never gone out, even with him gone. Neither of them said anything for a while, each soaking in the other's presence, savouring the moments in the warm embrace.

Propriety would not allow anything more than the embrace, however, and certainly not out in the open docks, where hundreds of busy sailors scurried about. Propriety, though, was being kind today, and it came in the form of one Lieutenant Clarke. James pushed gently out of Elizabeth's embrace and stood straight.

"The Admiral says you can go home, sir," the young sailor informed James, straight-faced.

Nodding, James dismissed the Lieutenant and turned to Elizabeth. He held out his arm for her to take, and had there not been fifty merchants running about, she would have asked James – no, insisted that he put his arm around her shoulder instead. Shrugging off the fantasized demeanour, Elizabeth placed her hand on his and they made their way toward the carriage, its bored driver waving them inside.

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James climbed into bed, Elizabeth following suit, laying herself to his left.

"I missed you," he said quietly, placing a brief kiss on her lips.

"I know." She put her arm over his chest, sliding her head into his shoulder. "I did nothing without you."

"I wish I could say the same," he answered, holding her hand and closing his eyes. "Sparrow and Barbossa are in their separate cells, their crew are due to be hanged, and I have nothing but a scar."

There was a short silence as he let the words sink in.

"Scar?"

James rubbed his thumb over her palm. "I was shot."

The bedsprings creaked in protest as Elizabeth half sat up, alarmed. "Where? By whom?"

"By Barbossa. Just in the arm. It's fine now, I-"

Elizabeth grasped his thumb, holding it tight. "How long ago?"

"Several weeks. Long since healed. I am perfectly well, I assure you… especially now that I have returned." He lifted his hand out of her nervous twiddling and stroked her cheek. "I love you."

She kissed his neck and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms about his waist, warm and content. He held her close, placing his right arm on her naked back and kissing her on the cheek. They lay there as the night wore on. Neither knew if the other was asleep, each at ease with the sound of deep breathing, the loving presence of another.

James fell asleep first, but his grip on Elizabeth never slackened.

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	18. More Piratey Escapades

_This is, as promised, the sparrabeth-ish chapter I promised. __**Englishfreckle, **__I don't know if you're still reading, but I keep the promises I make. So yeah, here you go. _

_Also, this is the second last chapter... expect a longer A/N in the next chapter. Stick around. _:)

"**Pirates of the Caribbean: It Doesn't Belong To Cucumbucaneer."**

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"You just can't help yourself, mate," Jack smirked, "can you?"

"Shut up." Barbossa growled succinctly, sliding down the mossy wall of his cell in exasperation. "And if by 'help' ye mean 'hate', then yer answer's no. I c'n only hate you."

"All in good time." Jack answered lazily. "We sit, we sail, we fight, sit, sail, fight, die, live, drink, sit, sail..."

As Jack droned on, Barbossa rolled his eyes. Even in separate cells, he was annoyed as hell with Jack. They'd been caught and sentenced to be hanged earlier that day, but if either was concerned, neither was showing it. There wasn't much to be concerned about in the first place, that was for sure, as the curse still hadn't been lifted. Life – or un-life, as Jack so 'fondly' called it – was really, _really_ boring without the added thrill of survival.

"...fight, wench, drink, fight, die, live, commandeer..."

_When the curse gets lifted, _Hector mused; _I'll eat those damned apples and stab myself with the cores. _

"...pilfer, sit, commandeer, sit, fight, die, sleep, kill..."

_Or I'll stab Sparrow and be done with it. _

"...and of course, taunt," Jack continued aimlessly, "the stuffy, wigged Norrie, who is most likely havin' a ...snooze-" he smirked, "wiff his dearly b'luv-ed right now."

"The only thing you're taunting is me patience, shut up."

"As I said, mate. All in good time. Oh. I forgot about sitting, and drinking, then we wench, pillage, plunder..."

Barbossa sighed. It was going to be a long night.

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James mumbled sleepily, the pillow beside him warm but empty. His left hand felt around confusedly for a moment before alerting him, and, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up abruptly.

"Calm down, James. I'm here." Elizabeth laughed, turning around from her place at the end of the bed.

He threw his head back onto the pillow, sighing in relief. An unwanted shiver ran down his spine. Whether it was from the lack of blanket or that Elizabeth was underdressed, he could not decipher.

"You really mustn't worry any more, James. You're home, in Port Royal, with me. You're not stuck on that ship any more. You're safe. I'm safe." Elizabeth sat next to him, pulling him into an embrace. She felt his breath slow down, the warmth of his back on her hands.

After a moment, James pulled away - reluctantly - and rubbed his eyes in confusion. Was he seeing things, or was Elizabeth holding his coat? He reached up and pulled it out of her hands, smirking and tossing it aside.

"Here, and with my property. Without permission." He smirked, reaching for his undershirt, which was hanging from his bed frame. "I do believe that was my official dress coat, madam. Care to explain your... insufficient actions?"

"Care to explain your induced, most inappropriate facial expression in the presence of a lady, sir?" Elizabeth's eyes twinkled slyly.

"I do believe you're playing with my head, ma'am."

"Mm-hmm." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips before grinning, "Good morning to you too."

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Will sat on his bed, legs crossed, face buried deep in his hands. _So that was it_, he thought miserably, _This is all that happens. I get kidnapped, hurt, returned, and two men get to die because of it. What's the use in that? Can I not go somewhere without having things fall to pieces around me? Could I, just for once, be happy for one day? One day, that's all I want, one day where nothing goes wrong. _

He had learnt of the pirates' death sentence as he was leaving Fort Charles. He didn't like the pirates, not in the least, but he really just didn't know what to think that two men were going to die because of him. _If all's fair in love and war, where's the love? And since when was this fair?_

A knock on his front door interrupted his thoughts. Sliding off the bed, Will shrugged to himself and opened the front door, where a scruffy, middle-aged man stood hunched over, holding a small letter in his bony hands. The man held up the folded document for Will to take. Will, with a cautious nod, took the parchment. He made to close the door, but the man held up a hand and put them together in a small cupped gesture.

"The sirs said you'd be payin'," the man rasped.

Will rolled his eyes. A letter from the Fort, then, and for all his hardship, two men would die. And he was paying for it. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a gold coin and dropped it into the beggar's hands before shutting the door.

Sitting back onto his cot, he ripped the letter open from its wax seal and read the letter, which was etched into with a firm, flowing script.

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**THREE HOURS EARLIER**

James sat behind his desk at Fort Charles, his hand lingering over a blank piece of parchment, his eyes blank. Should he be accusatory, like he felt so strongly inside, or neutral and unfeeling, like he always had toward lower-class men?

_Dear Mr Turner, _

_Addressing is Commodore Norrington. I write this in regard to the recent _Black Pearl _incident. I, along with my crew, am aware of your infrequent relations, as it were with these particular pirates. This is not an urgent matter, but it has been rumored that you may have close acquaintance with Sparrow and/or his cellmate, and we wish for you to disclose, in a separate letter, that this is untrue. _

_This is also a personal request that you attend the hanging ceremony of Captains Sparrow and Barbossa, to be held on August the twentieth here at Fort Charles. You are in no way obliged to attend, however in order to settle town disputes concerning your relations/lack thereof with pirates, I suggest you be present. _

_Sincerely, _

_James Norrington_

Dropping his pen unceremoniously onto his desk, James sat back into his chair, shoulders slumped over. It was the worst formality he'd ever written down, but with Turner being less than formal, what did it matter? Sealing the letter, he stood up and put his hat back on, sighing and leaving his room.

He exited the Fort, passing by a woman vagrant. He considered asking her to deliver the letter, but thought better – who knew what might happen if someone happened to see the Commodore, the seemingly faithful married man, talk to a womanly scum? He only had to walk halfway down the dirt road before coming across a male tramp.

Since his letter was friendly, in a way, why not be unfeeling through someone else?

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Elizabeth walked quickly, hiding under her hood. If she walked oddly enough, she could pass for a beggar woman on the street. Maybe she'd actually get a look at the pirates... As she passed by the entrance to the Fort, she passed one of the soldiers – at closer range, it was clearly her husband. Her heart stopped for one fleeting moment as they crossed paths. James seemed to hesitate for a split second, then continue on with his walk. Elizabeth wondered why he was walking down the street with a piece of paper in his hand, but set her mind back on her task, and navigated her way through the stony maze of Fort Charles.

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Jack raised his brows as the hooded figure walked down the stairs.

Elizabeth gazed in awe at the two captains, pulling her hood off. Her heart beat wildly at the thrill of being near actual pirates. She could tell easily enough which one was Sparrow – the legendary red bandana and drunken aura told her immediately. The other was slumped over in his cell, feather hat pulled down over his face, his snoring echoing through the hall.

"What brings you here, ye faceless fury?" Jack asked lazily, leaning against the bars to get a closer look at Elizabeth. "What's a woman of your status doin' in a place of scum like us?"

"How do you know me?"

"Everyone knows ye, luv, yer the Governor's daughter. Big flurry 'bout you. Norrie'd gaze out into the horizon for you, the lovesick git."

Elizabeth's temper flared at the insult, although her heart fluttered knowing that James did care. "Do not call my husband such a disrespectful name."

"Yer the woman," Jack bowed in bored defeat, tipping his hat toward her. "Now what's yer business?"

There was a moment's silence – Barbossa even stopped snoring – where Elizabeth was speechless. What was her business? Was she just there to gawk, to talk, to listen to? Realizing her mistake of coming in the first place, she made no comment. She just stared at the floor, brow furrowed in thought.

"None?" Jack grinned smugly. "Sure? Could you not contain yourself, maybe? Perhaps couldn't resist seeing a certain pirate captain? Couldn't' resist having a gape at a legend, couldn't resist temptation, couldn't bear to just look at a wigged man all night?"

Elizabeth fired forward, grabbing Jack's cell bars in anger. "Don't be so arrogant. I love James. You're nothing. I was here to-" she blinked and paused for a moment before finishing, "taunt."

"Taunt away." Jack shrugged, laying himself down onto the hay-covered floor of his cell.

Elizabeth's face contorted with anger before she pulled her hood back over her face. Hurrying back up the stairs, fuming and annoyed, she made a mental note to kiss James twice as hard when he got home.

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**FIVE DAYS LATER**

"…and may God have mercy on your soul."

Will, Elizabeth and James all closed their eyes as the lever was pulled. The drumming echoed around the forecourt, and the inevitable sound of bodies falling limp from a rope rang in the three's ears. Elizabeth's grip on James' arm tightened as the deceased's bodies were thrown into a cart by the side of the raised platform. The crowd soon dispersed, most of them pointing at Will as they left. Elizabeth shot James an uncomfortable look and they began their way home.

Only Will remained in the square, gazing at his boots, mind a blank. Only when he did look up, the bodies were gone, supposedly having been removed. He felt as though he was being watched and, shrugging, began his way home.

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Jack held up the bottle and corked it, handing it to Barbossa, who nodded. They hid behind a large bush, waiting for Will to pass by. Thankfully he hadn't noticed them getting out of the cart and behind a pillar when everyone had left. Only luck would tell if they got out of Port Royal as planned. Jack took out his boot knife and held it in position. Barbossa peered over the edge and nodded again, signalling frantically with his head.

"BOO!" Was all Jack managed to shout before grabbing Will's arm. Barbossa shot out from behind and grabbed Will's shoulders before the young man could comprehend anything. Before long, Jack had made a tiny slit in Will's forearm. Barbossa uncorked the empty rum bottle and, holding it under a squirming Will's arm, caught a decent amount of blood and corked the bottle.

The two were running back down the road just as Will found his voice.

Will sighed, took out his kerchief and wrapped it around the cut. Obviously some sort of plan. He knew it pointless to get them caught again – perhaps after they'd broken the curse, he'd alert the Navy. For now, all that mattered was his wound. He had to get home before it got infected.

Holding his left arm up, he began his way back home.

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Later than night, James and Elizabeth were wrapped up in each other's arms, lying contentedly, sleep waiting for its cue. Both were naked, both were sleepy, and both were in heaven on earth.

"Feeling happier, then, James?" Elizabeth asked, notably mocking him.

He grinned at the dark. "I am."

"Really."

"Really." James answered, stifling a yawn, twirling a strand of Elizabeth's hair around his finger, holding her close. "And if you should sleep, I shall be even happier."

"As will I," Elizabeth murmured, nestling in closer to him. "Don't suppose you could sleep as well?"

"If I do so, will you?" James asked, stroking her hair. Elizabeth held his gaze, held his hand. Holding the moment.

"Indeed."


	19. As You Please, James

_The end! And a HUGE thankyou to _the Mouse in the Opera House, Phantomfr33k24601, Flute-Angel, Kaptain Jack, Mango Schmango, MarvelousThings07, sugerpeanut, Aleviel, Dark fea, Rokhal, Saloma-Kiwi, callisto-nastasia, dora7484, iamobsessedwithharrypotter, xLady Jackal, Lilyfish, Becki-ox, DancingWithOceanWaves, _and_ Sarah Cartwright _for reviewing/listing as a favorite/putting on alert/etc_. _And, an especially big big BIG thankyou to _frenchhornfreak _and_ englishfreckle, _both Willabether and Sparrabether respectively, for reading my Norribeth story! It's fabulous to know that we can have peace amongst the shippers. _

**The fact that POTC belongs to me is**** nonexistant**_, and__enjoy the final chapter, everyone. _

_Much love! Have a good life. _

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**THREE WEEKS LATER**

"Good day, James. I trust you are well?" Weatherby's jovial tone echoed through the hallway, resounding into the sitting room, where Elizabeth sat reading a book. She looked up at the sound of her father's voice and, putting her book down on the settee, stood up to walk across the room.

"Yes, sir. All is well. I believe you wish to speak to Elizabeth?" James' genuine cheer followed.

"Both of you, really," was the answer James received, and he motioned for the butler to take Weatherby's coat. Elizabeth stopped in the doorway and turned around, seating herself back into her chair as Weatherby entered the room, spreading his arms wide. "How's my daughter?"

She pretended to be surprised and stood up, a smile lighting her face. "Father!" she pulled the old man into an embrace, grinning at James, who was feigning jealousy. "What a lovely surprise."

"Yes, well." Weatherby pulled back and motioned for Elizabeth to sit back down. She did as she was told, patting the empty space next to her. James sat beside her, placing his hand on hers, and throwing another smile at the Governor. Weatherby was leaning back into his chair, rubbing his hands together, looking quite flushed.

"I do believe you've been wed five months now, have you not?" Elizabeth's father began.

James and Elizabeth could only nod.

"And James has yet to, er..." Weatherby's eyes twinkled, "engage... with you?"

"I don't quite understand your statement, Father," was all Elizabeth found in her voice.

James bit his lip and leaned over, whispering in her ear. Elizabeth listened closely, struggling to concentrate on what he was saying, rather than the feel of his breath on her neck. His whispers were barely audible above the thudding of her heart, which was speeding up at his almost inapt closeness. Eventually he pulled away, pink-faced and smiling nervously at the old man frowning in discomfort across from him. Elizabeth's jaw dropped, but neither man tried to correct her stance once seeing the dazed look in her eyes.

"Ah... that... that is true, Father."

Weatherby nodded solemnly, an anxious grimace spreading across his face. "I believe the reason for this was my own... er, request?"

"Yes, sir."

The Governor's face broke into another smile. Elizabeth felt a slight twinge of annoyance at her father's abrupt change in mood again, but instead of boldly commenting as she usually did, she sent him a quizzical look. James, however, had more than an inkling of what Weatherby was going to discuss, and couldn't help wiping the sweat off his nose. Weatherby clapped his hands together, "Well! I find that, in the course of events, I do wish for grandchildren. So, James..." Weatherby gestured towards Elizabeth, "as you please."

He left the room, leaving a flabbergasted James and Elizabeth in his wake.

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Dinner that night was the most frightening thing either had ever experienced. Having been born and raised into equally repressed families, both James and Elizabeth were well learned of displaying a neutral façade. Both were making use of their practised detachment - Elizabeth's mind was racing in anxiety and anticipation, while her face showed relative calm; James' mentality was a chaotic, almost hurried jumble of thoughts.

James, however, was not as successful in obscuring his emotions - he dropped his fork from a shaking hand whenever he so much as glanced at Elizabeth. The fact they were sitting across from each other made it difficult not to look, and the worrying lack of apprehension on Elizabeth's part did not help his own flustered state. Elizabeth sensed his fear, and in a feeble attempt to reassure his confidence, sent him a light smile across the table. After he dropped his wineglass onto the floor, she thought it best to just let him be.

For the rest of the meal, Elizabeth made several attempts to start a conversation, but to no avail. The only positive result she received was a nervous grin from James, which soon disappeared into another stare at his plate. He made an effort to eat; in the end he couldn't make his jaw crush his food, let alone swallow. Elizabeth could only watch sympathetically as her husband stumbled through his dinner.

"You'll be fine," was all she could say. James only nodded.

An eternity later – or perhaps it was a quarter hour; James had trouble keeping track of anything – Elizabeth placed her cutlery together, beaming at James, who hastily wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. Elizabeth followed suit and, taking his quivering hand, placed a kiss on his cheek. He bit his lip in unease, leading his wife to their bedroom. James didn't understand it; for months now he had longed for this day, yet all he could feel was trepidation. A third of him was overjoyed, but only slightly. He had some idea of what to do, but he'd never…

Elizabeth, noticing his lapse of mind, opened their door and let herself in. James trailed slowly after her, stopping to turn around and close the door. As the lock clicked shut, he froze completely. There was a pause in the air as the sound of the rustling of material echoed around the silent room. James closed his eyes, his hand still resting on the doorknob, mind frozen in vulnerability.

"James?"

He shivered involuntarily. "Yes, Elizabeth?"

She covered herself with the blanket, sliding underneath the sheet. "There's no hurry, James. Nobody will force you."

James swallowed, "No, I… we can… will… tonight." He let go of the doorknob and turned around, facing his wife. "Now."

Nothing further needed to be said. He knew it was the moment he had lived for. She knew how much he had longed for it. He knew, the moment his lips touched hers, that there was nothing left to fear. She knew it was what he had wanted, what she had wanted, what they had wanted. James knew, holding her close, that nothing mattered, nobody else mattered. She was the sun, he was the earth.

Everything was her. Everything was him.

They were sated, joined, entwined as one.


End file.
